


The Adventures of Bucky and Dog

by CaliHart



Series: The Adventures of Bucky and Dog [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Drugs, Explosions, Fluffy Animals, Found Family, Fur Piles, Gen, I think that's all the bad tags, Kidnapping, REALLY slow, Shapeshifter Bucky Barnes, Shapeshifter Sam Wilson, Slow burn Bucky/Steve, Werewolf Bucky Barnes, injured animal, mentions of torture, oops forgot some
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 11:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11103828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaliHart/pseuds/CaliHart
Summary: Bucky is a werewolf, a shapeshifter, and he isn't too bothered by that fact. He has a friend, Dog, to help him learn. He has a temporary home and a routine he likes, and then Steve comes along and uproots that life.Soon, Bucky has to struggle to keep himself under control and alive all while trying to find out where Home really is.~~This fic follows Bucky's POV through Civil War and after.





	1. Civil War

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AraniaArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraniaArt/gifts).



> This is my fic for the Captain America Reverse Big Bang. I had the pleasure of writing for Arania's art. 
> 
> If I've missed tags, feel free to ask me to include some! I haven't posted anything in years so I've forgotten how to go about it.

He was dreaming, he knew he was. 

The scenery had that vague, blurry feel to it that most of his dreams had: fuzzy outlines of trees and horizons. And Steve was there, which was the biggest clue. He hadn’t seen Steve in person since the helicarriers went down over the river, before that the bridge, and before that, all the way back to ‘45 when he fell from the train. 

He’d seen him plenty in the news, of course, him and the other Avengers, either geared up for fights or press conferences, or in civilian clothes trying to dodge the paparazzi by ducking into a coffee shop. Steve still wasn’t very good at either civilian disguises or ducking.

But it was a dream, and in it Steve was messy-haired and smiling at him like neither of them had a care in the world—like everything they’d ever wanted in the world hadn’t fallen down around their ears in stages. Steve was smiling, the day was clear and bright, and he felt something he could only describe as _happiness._ A fluffy golden retriever was frolicking along at their sides, pink tongue lolling. The dog was clean and, even better, _he_ was clean and warm. He and Steve were dressed in nice clothes and everything was, dare he say, perfect, or at the very least good.

Bucky shook himself awake before the dream could turn sour and dark, and found himself still in his wolf form and curled up with the golden retriever from the dream, mangy golden fur mixing with his own dark brown fur, nearly black it was so dirty. He yawned and stretched out his paws, the metal one covered in a layer of clay-heavy mud so it wouldn’t shine in the darkness. When he shifted from wolf to human, the metal limb resumed its arm shape, and he had to shake the dirt out of his sleeve. They were hidden away in the corner of a warehouse, taking advantage of the off-hours to sleep someplace warm and dry. They’d have to move soon before the morning shift came and opened the warehouse for business, but for now he could let his companion sleep while he raided the staff room for food left forgotten in the employee fridge, and check the lost and found for clothes that more or less fit him. At the first sound of an engine in the parking lot, Bucky and the dog were up and out through the back door with the broken lock and broken alarm, under the hole in the perimeter fence, and they were away.

It was surprisingly easy to buy passage for a large dog and a larger man. All they really needed was a sturdy collar and leash, some forged paperwork saying he was a service dog, and sometimes a muzzle, and most personnel glanced from his face to the dog to his gloved left hand and back again before charging him a small fee to bring the dog with him on board any plane, train, or boat. Better yet, he often was seated in quiet compartments or places with more legroom, the airlines only asking if he was able and willing to help with the evacuation of other passengers in case of an emergency. Most times, he didn’t even need to speak if he didn’t want to, and the dog never embarrassed him by doing its business where it shouldn’t.

Bucky tried to ditch the dog more than once, not wanting its death on his conscience, but it kept showing up again, like a bad penny, or a lucky charm. Even the few times he raided old Hydra bases the dog only permitted itself to be left as a lookout the first two times, and then it started following him into the buildings past the bodies. The first time the dog attacked a Hydra goon in Bucky’s blind spot, biting down on the goon’s gun arm, Bucky gave in.

“Alright, I guess you can stay. Good Dog,” he said, patting him on the head as Dog wagged his tail.

Dog continued following Bucky around and helping him with his missions. He even served as a diversion a few times, wandering up to doors and distracting guards into petting or feeding him, so Bucky could slip past them without notice, or get close enough to take them out without a sound. And sometimes, at night, when Bucky was too exhausted to stay awake, he let Spy Dog keep watch while he curled up in a dark corner with his tail over his nose, blending into the filth and shadows to get a few much-needed hours of sleep.

So they continued to help each other. Dog taught Bucky how to deal with having a tail and walking on four legs, and other dog things, and Bucky kept him safe and fed and protected him from other dogs when he wandered into the wrong alleyways, and from humans who saw the mangy Dog as a good target for their misdirected anger and cruelty. People like that were just two-bit bullies, no better than Hydra, and Bucky felt no guilt about leaving them unconscious on streets or with concussions and broken arms. He might be a dirty mutt, but Scruffy Dog was his.

Dog didn’t do so well cooped up in apartments, so the first time they ended up in one, Dog kept Bucky from hiding away in it for too long. Daily walks became a thing they did. Dog helped Bucky get along with the few neighbors he had. Children loved to pet him, and once Bucky had given him a bath, parents were more likely to _let_ their children pet Clean Dog. As a bonus, nobody expected to see the Winter Soldier out walking a dog with kids, so it was a good disguise. Still, they didn’t stay in any one place for too long, and so Dog became Chien and Hund and even Câine.

Romania felt more like Home to Bucky than any other place they had visited. The walks took place twice daily, though Bucky ended up letting Dog stay with a small family on the second floor in exchange for Bucky running errands for the family, not wanting to force him to walk up so many flights of stairs to the empty apartment Bucky had chosen. Bucky didn’t feel like training him to use the toilet, and 20-some flights of stairs was a long way to go to get outside. When the news and the world and the Avengers (Steve) finally found him, he was at least glad for that. It meant Dog wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire.

…Of course, that didn’t mean Dog wouldn’t still follow him. 

 

~~

With Captain America ( _Steve_ ) in his apartment, Bucky found himself caught up in both the sight and smell of him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d learned to rely on his nose until it was filled with that hauntingly familiar scent, and the fact that it was mixing with his own scent in the apartment sent shivers down his spine. Not that he showed it. The static and buzz of the flying man’s voice through the comm in Steve’s ear was a distraction, and Bucky didn’t know how Steve could keep questioning and talking to him through it. He finally wrenched his thoughts away from Steve’s scent and heartbeat to listen to the footsteps pounding up the stairs, several pairs of heavy boots that couldn’t be quiet enough to escape his notice no matter how hard they tried.

“You know me,” Steve said, and “This doesn’t have to end in a fight,” and “Buck, stop!” But Steve didn’t understand, so Bucky shook him off and ran. The man in the black suit with the claws was strong and fast and smelled sharp and _wrong_ , and all his instincts were screaming at him to run and get away. But the man and Steve stayed hot on his trail, and the police were close, and cars and civilians were everywhere and he tried to avoid them because the smell of blood always stuck in his nose and rested heavy on his tongue and he _hated_ it. And then they were surrounded, and the man in the metal suit smelled like gunpowder and blood, and then all Bucky could smell was concrete and rubber and gasoline as he was shoved to the ground, and Steve and the flying man and the clawed man (your highness??) were put into a van. And the police took Bucky’s things away and shoved him in a glass box in an armored truck with no windows and all he could smell was sterile air. And he thought he heard the familiar barking of Dog before the truck door shut and the engine started and they were gone.

Bucky closed his eyes. 

~~

It didn’t take long for the glass box to fill with his scent, and it mingled with the sterileness in a way that made him feel sick. The vents let in small bits of scent on filtered air. The guards smelled angry and scared, their heartbeats distorted, and the man who came to talk to him smelled excited and angry in equal measures under his calm face. The man’s heart and scent ramped up when he pulled out the book, and the smell in the glass box went rancid with the scent of Bucky’s own fear. The man’s voice forced its way into his ears, ripping at the core of him, and the Soldier surged forward to take control of his human body, forcing Bucky back and down until he was mentally curled up in his wolf form, trapped in the corner of his own mind.

_“Ready to comply.”_

~~

Bucky woke up in a damp warehouse, the scent of mildew almost overpowering the smell of his own wet fur. There were two—no, three heartbeats beside his own, but when he tried to smell who they belonged to, the rust and dust made him sneeze.

“Hey Cap!” the flying man’s voice called, and there was a growl next to him. Bucky opened his eyes, rolling his head to see Dog crouched protectively over him and Steve and the flying man (Sam??) stepping into view. Steve smelled unsettled and anxious, which was not surprising if this was his first time knowingly seeing a shapeshifter. Bucky wondered how much he and Sam had talked, how much Steve had learned while he was unconscious. Bucky moved to try and stand up, and found his metal limb caught in some device. Dog gave a warning growl when Steve stepped closer, making him keep his distance.

“Think you can get your friend there to calm down and let us help you, Bucky?” Steve asked. Bucky rolled his eyes in his direction, then spread himself out and forced the change. The sensors in his metal limb screamed through his system as it grew in the tight space, and Bucky groaned. The water from his fur became water in his clothes and hair, and he shivered on the damp floor. Dog adjusted his stance and crouched closer to share body heat.

“Why should I?” Bucky croaked.

“We set that clamp tight enough to hold your…leg,” Steve said. “It might be damaging your arm now.”

“Why should you care?” Bucky asked, looking up at him before dropping his head against Dog’s leg. Steve huffed out a breath through his nose.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” 

(What would convince you, Steve?) “…Your mom’s name was Sarah.” (Everyone knew that though, didn’t they?) “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.” The mixed scents of relief from Steve and suspicion from Sam filled the room. “What did I do?”

“Enough.” 

Bucky sighed and pushed himself up on his free arm to talk. While he explained about the other soldiers, Dog gradually relaxed until he was essentially lying on top of Bucky, who lifted his head to nuzzle him briefly.

“So this is your dog?” Sam said. Bucky shot him a dirty look.

“This is my friend.”

“What’s his name?” Steve asked. Bucky was silent.

“Are you serious? You didn’t even give the dog a name?” Sam said.

“He answers to ‘hey you’. It works out okay for us. What’s _your_ name?” Bucky got a thrill of satisfaction at the offended look on Sam’s face.

“Sorry, Buck, I didn’t realize. This is Sam Wilson. He’s been helping me look for you,” Steve said.

“Hunt me, more like.” Bucky rolled his shoulders and groaned as Steve protested. “Isn’t that right, hawk?”

“His name is the Falcon, Bucky, and that’s not even true.” 

Bucky cut his eyes to Steve and looked back at Sam. “He doesn’t know.”

“No. Because I haven’t told him.”

“Haven’t told me what.” 

Sam sighed and looked at the ceiling as if praying for patience.

“I can turn into a bird. Specifically, a goshawk. And before you ask, I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t relevant and it wasn’t helpful. Besides, what would you have said if I went ‘oh by the way Steve, I can sprout feathers on my days off’?” Sam raised his eyebrows. “I can do more with the wing pack than I can without it. Beaks weren’t made for human speech.”

“Okay, fine. Fine! I get it.” Steve scrubbed a hand through his hair and paced back and forth for a moment. “Who else is one? And how does it happen? Is it a bite?” Bucky snorted and Steve frowned. “How long have you been a...a werewolf, anyway? Have you always been like this and you just kept it from me?” Steve demanded.

“No. Hydra did this to me,” Bucky said quietly, and Steve instantly clammed up. 

“We’re not like werewolves from the stories. It passes through the sharing of blood. These days, most commonly from a blood transfusion. We’re universal donors, and we have slightly accelerated healing,” Sam said. “Some people are born into it, though. Riley was. He shared it with me when we were serving together.”

“That cat guy too. Your friend in black, with the claws. I could smell it on him,” Bucky said.

“With the way he moved, I’m not surprised. He really is a panther,” Sam added.

“Who else?” Steve sighed. 

“Your friend Stark,” Bucky said as he tried moving to get more comfortable. Dog’s tail whapped against his legs. “I’ve seen footage from before and after that…abduction? When he was in Afghanistan and he came back with that thing in his chest. He came back different in more than one way.”

“He’s a cat too.”

Steve dragged a hand down his face. “Okay, I’m just gonna shelve that and deal with it later. For now, let’s get you out of that and get out of here. We’ve got places to be.”

It took a while to get Bucky’s arm out of the vice, mainly because Guard Dog still didn’t want to let Steve or Sam near, and when Bucky finally convinced him, the arm’s expansion had forced the vice into an odd angle so it wouldn’t slide smoothly anymore. Bucky rotated the arm and checked the plates when he was finally free, making sure it wasn’t damaged. Dog came around to sniff it, and Bucky scratched his ears.

“Good Dog,” he said. Dog wagged his tail and pressed against Bucky’s legs as he stood, offering support. “Alright Steve, you’re in charge here. Lead the way.”

“We’ve got a car waiting outside, no one will notice us in it,” Steve said, heading outside.

“Shotgun’s mine,” Sam called.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” Bucky muttered. “How are we all supposed to fit in there?”

“The dog wasn’t part of the original plan, Buck.” Steve rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously and Bucky glared.

“I’m not leaving him behind.”

“Do you really want him caught up in all this, though?” Sam asked. He raised his hands in surrender when Bucky turned the glare to him. “I’m just saying, he might get hurt with what’s coming next. We could send him to Clint, Hawkeye, he’s got a farm in the country. Couple kids there, I’m sure they’d love to take care of him for you.” Bucky wavered and looked down at Dog, who looked back up at him and wagged his tail.

“He does like kids.”

“There we go, see? Perfect solution. I’ll go call Barton.” Sam walked away and Bucky sighed and sat down next to Dog, who instantly cuddled up to him.

“It’s a good idea, Bucky,” Steve said softly.

“Yeah. Doesn’t make it any easier.” Bucky scrubbed his hands through Dog’s fur before looking up at Steve. “He’s been with me through a lot. He’s helped me a lot. Dog’s more than just my friend, he’s my packmate. Like family.”

“I understand, Buck. Clint’s family will take good care of him for you.”

“It’s all settled,” Sam said when he got back. “Barton’s gonna pick him up at the airport, we’ve just gotta get him there.” Bucky touched his nose to Dog’s for a long moment, closing his eyes.

“Leave that to me.”

“Are you sure? It’s not exactly safe out there—” Bucky silenced Steve with a look.

“I went this long without being found, Rogers. I can do it for a couple more hours.”

“You heard the man, Steve. Let’s go make sure everyone knows where to meet us.”

~~

It was easy to shake off his human form in favor of his fur, and Dog happily shoved up against his larger body to lick his face, never afraid of him no matter what was going on. It was easier to think as a wolf, and the last hooks of the trigger words let go of his skin. Hydra had never utilized this form of his, it had no sense memory of obeying orders and completing missions. The metal limb changed with no problem, so Bucky leaned his weight on it while he hooked his other paw over Dog’s shoulders and shamelessly nuzzled him while Steve and Sam looked on.

“Any day now,” Sam said, making a show of looking at his watch. Bucky just stared at him for a moment while Dog growled and Steve smacked Sam’s arm. He gave Dog a nip to the ear and then went to dip the metal limb in a likely looking mud puddle. A wolf might already attract attention in the city, he didn’t need to be a wolf with a shiny prosthetic on top of it. Bucky gave Steve a considering look, then nudged his head under Steve’s hand for a second before he took off, Dog following at his heels.

“See you soon, Buck,” Steve said.

It was remarkably easy to cross the city back to his apartment building, so long as they stuck to the shadows and managed not to get run over when crossing the streets. Getting inside was another matter, however. Police tape and cops were everywhere, news cameras all over the place, and some of the other residents of the building were grumbling together on the sidewalk. Bucky didn’t see the family that Dog stayed with on the lower floor of the building, but he and Dog were able to sniff out their trail and followed it to another building where the mother of the family had a sister. The kids were sitting out on the steps, and they shouted with joy when they saw Dog, running to meet him and Bucky. Bucky allowed himself to be petted and tugged into the building by a small hand buried in his fur. The adults were understandably alarmed by his presence, but he stuck close to Dog on the way into the apartment, and then darted into the bathroom to shift, the father close behind with a knife in his hand.

Bucky quickly explained to the man that he was the wolf, and he meant no harm to any of them. Everyone from his apartment building knew he was the Winter Soldier by that point, and the man wanted Bucky away from his family _yesterday_.

“I know, and I’m going to leave as soon as I can,” Bucky explained in Romanian. “But I can’t take Dog with me, and I don’t want to leave him behind. They might come after him. I want to ask if you would take him to the airport for me. Someone will meet you there to send him to America where he’ll be safe. I can pay you for it.” The man eyed him suspiciously and asked him a few questions, and then demanded a sum lower than Bucky was honestly willing to pay. “The person who’ll meet you at the airport will have the money for you, I swear. I need to leave now so I don’t bring danger to your door, just let me say goodbye to Dog and I’ll go.” The man gave him a grudging nod.

Bucky left the bathroom with the father close behind him, and he knelt in front of Dog where he stood between the two kids, who questioned his sudden appearance. Bucky kissed Dog’s muzzle and scratched his ears. “Be careful, Good Dog. Be safe,” Bucky said quietly. Dog looked at him solemnly and licked his chin. Bucky kissed him again and stood, giving the kids a quick hug and nodding to the adults as he went to the door.

“I’m sorry about the plums,” he said to the mother, and then he was gone, slinking back through the shadows to meet back up with Steve, Sam, and the others crazy enough to risk their necks for him. 

~~

The car was worse than Bucky had imagined. He felt cramped and cooped up in the back of the tiny vehicle, unable to stretch his legs to their full extent. He had to struggle to keep the feeling of being trapped stuffed away in a corner of his mind. It was temporary, he knew it was, Steve would pull over and let him out to walk around any time he asked, he just had to breathe. It didn’t help that Sam refused to move his seat up, but talking to him and watching Steve and the agent lady served as a minor distraction. Though it was weird the two of them were standing so close. They were both human, so they couldn’t be packmates, and all of Bucky’s ragged memories pointed to Steve having emotions for a different lady, one with brown hair. _She’s not your type, Steve,_ something in him whispered. But she opened the trunk of her car and had gear for them. Bucky was able to get out of the shoebox car and stretch his legs while Steve and Sam transferred their things into the tiny trunk. They’d better make them fit, because Bucky was not going to let them stuff anything into the backseat with him. Not if they wanted everything to come out intact.

Half an hour into their drive he was already restless again, his head dropped back against the window and one foot up on the back of Sam’s seat. “Uuuugh.”

“Can you just calm down, Bucky? We’re almost there.”

“That glass box they put me in had more room than this. I’m getting a cramp. And it smells like dusty feathers and mansweat in here.” His foot knocked into Sam’s head.

“Oh, you wanna go, fleabag? Steve pull over, we can have it out right here,” Sam said, twisting around.

“You couldn’t even take me, birdbrain,” Bucky said, kicking his seat.

“Don’t make me turn this car around!”

~~

The other people Steve had called met them at an airport. The men smelled more or less like normal people, but the girl had something about her that made Bucky sneeze.

“Clint is who we sent Dog to,” Steve had told him quietly before they got out of the car. “He’s got family in the States, a sister-in-law, who will pick him up and take him out to the farm until we can go get him.” Bucky stared at him through the window for a minute before he nodded. Barton looked like he might be dog-friendly. He made sure to memorize Clint’s scent so he’d be able to track him down later if he needed to.

The gear Steve had for him made Bucky want to pin his ears back and bare his teeth. It looked a lot like the Asset gear, and like the Soldier’s uniform. Everyone wanted to put him in black leather and straps. It felt like a collar around his neck. Bucky clenched his teeth and put it on anyway, the Asset-memory in the corner of his mind sitting up and taking notice. The Soldier was still sleeping it off in the back.

The girl, Wanda, was in a leather coat, but it was red instead of black. Casting his eyes over the assembled geared-up group, Bucky noticed Steve was the only one in a different color. All the rest of them were wearing some combination of red, black, and silver. Steve was the only one in blue, and with the shield on his back that was basically a target, no one was going to miss seeing him. The plan Steve gave them sounded kind of stupid, but he rolled his eyes and went off with Sam anyway.

The kid that came after them smelled _weird_ , in addition to being, impossibly, strong enough to catch the metal arm. He didn’t even want to get started on the purple flying guy with the cape he could see out the windows. When they finally faced off, six on six, Bucky was hard-pressed to focus on anything other than the panther in front of him. The man was fast, almost faster than Bucky was, and that was with whatever Hydra had done to him. He wasn’t pulling his punches either, and those claws were sharp. Bucky found himself growling as they fought, and took the first opportunity he could to get out of the guy’s direct path.

It felt…it felt _wrong_ to leave Sam and the rest of the team behind, even though he’d only just met them. It made him itch under his skin, left him twitching until he wanted to shake off his skin in favor of fur. The flight was long, and boring, and of course Steve wanted to talk.

“Sam said the…transformation comes from blood,” Steve said slowly. Bucky sighed silently and braced himself for the question. “Who did yours come from?” He stayed quiet for a moment.

“His name was Alexander Pierce. He was my main handler,” Bucky said. He cut his eyes at Steve and watched his jaw work as he processed it.

“Secretary Pierce? From Shield?”

“From Hydra, you mean. That’s the one. He’s been my handler since the Soviets sold me to the Americans, and he injected me almost immediately with his own blood. These other Soldiers…” He shook his head. “They’re just human, but they still might be too much for me.”

“What did he do to you, Buck?”

“You sure you want to know, pal?” A stubborn silence answered him. “They thought it was funny, you know. Putting a muzzle on me in human form. I was Hydra’s ‘attack dog’, and you gotta put a muzzle on a violent dog or it might bite the wrong hand.”

“Bucky. You’re not a dog, you’re a person.”

“Am I though, Steve? I’m not a dog, but I’m still a wolf under this skin. There’s nothing that can change that now. I’ve been a wolf for twenty years now, maybe more, I’m not sure. I’ve killed people for them.”

“Buck. What they did, that wasn’t you.”

“I know. But I still did it.” He looked out the windows in the cockpit. “Come on, get ready. We’re almost there.”

~~

Bucky only felt relief when the fight was over. The three of them were sprawled in various positions around the room before Steve dragged himself upright. The room reeked of blood and hot metal, mixed in with the smell of snowflakes carried in from outside. He really wished he could turn his nose off sometimes. Steve grabbed Bucky, pulling his remaining arm over his shoulders and dragging him off the ground. Stark shouted after them, and Steve dropped his shield on the ground, still walking.

“Wait,” Bucky mumbled. “Wait, my arm.” Steve stopped, tightened his arm around Bucky’s waist, and stooped to grab it. The shift in stance let Bucky’s hanging head roll, until he could easily turn his head into Steve’s neck and breathe him in. He still smelled like blood, but under that was the familiar, reassuring scent that was just Steve. Nothing should have been so soothing when he’d just lost his arm. The blast from Stark was enough to blow it off, to destroy most of the bicep and melt those bits down into their component parts, but it was intact from the fingers up, including a few inches above the elbow. “Just tuck it into my belt, it’ll hold on.” He could feel Steve looking at him in confusion, but he brought it over to Bucky’s waist. As soon as it was near enough, the fingers twitched to life, worming up under his coat to latch onto his belt. Steve jolted and let go of the arm, and it swung and bounced off his thigh. Bucky shivered at the cold and pain. “Let’s go a’ready,” he slurred.

“Alright. Alright, just hold on, Buck.” Steve took a better grip on him and they stumbled their way out of the bunker. The panther was waiting for them, holding his helmet in his hands. His jet was parked beside their own.

“I have taken Mr. Zemo into custody,” he said to them. “I will be delivering him to the UN to be charged for his crimes. I apologize for attacking you. It seems I acted too hastily, letting my emotions get the best of me instead of gathering the facts for myself.” Steve adjusted his grip on Bucky’s waist as he started to slip, both of them still silent. T’Challa looked down at his helmet. “I will not try to keep you here. But I wish to extend an offer. Come stay in my country. You are refugees now, and I would be glad to offer you safety and protection until everything gets sorted out.”

“What do you get out of it?” Bucky croaked. “Thought you and Stark were best friends, one cat to another.” T’Challa gave them a smile that looked more like a grimace.

“I wish to make amends. It is…what my father would have wanted. Wakanda has been a refuge for shapeshifters for thousands of years. That is part of the Black Panther’s legacy. I only ask that you do not share this knowledge if the secret of your own ability becomes publicly known.” Bucky and Steve glanced at each other and nodded. T’Challa held out a device, and Steve let go of Bucky’s arm to take it. “That will lead you there when you are ready. Safe travels, my friends.” He dipped his head and stepped aside. They watched him carefully as they stumbled past, Bucky keeping his ears tuned to him until the doors of the quinjet closed behind them. Steve settled him into a seat and started the jet, getting them into the air before flicking on autopilot and coming to check on him.

“I’ll be fine, Steve,” Bucky said. “Let’s go get the others and disappear.”

~~

Bucky had wanted to come with Steve to free the others from the prison, but with only one arm, Steve managed to convince him to keep the jet ready. They didn’t want to get the others from their cells only to be stranded. So Bucky kept the quinjet hovering nearby, cloaked to be invisible, while Steve went in by himself. The jet was both too loud and too quiet with only him in it, and he found himself anxiously tapping away at the control panel before he dragged the metal arm into his lap. He hadn’t tried to shift since it had been blown off, not knowing what would happen to the severed end. Hopefully he could get it repaired enough to reattach it in Wakanda. Until then he could at least make sure it was clean.

Steve had been creeped out that the arm could move even though it wasn’t attached to him, but it didn’t bother Bucky. It was his arm, he could still feel it, the neural connections in his brain activating it automatically whenever it was within reach. As the fingers held onto his knee to keep the arm from moving around while he cleaned it, it still just felt like his own touch. As long as the power cells in the forearm didn’t die, it would continue to work.

He had long since finished cleaning it and was just tracing the plates with his fingers by the time he saw movement on the Raft. Clint and Sam, each with a duffel bag strapped to their backs, were running across the landing pad toward the edge. They each had wary looks on their faces, so Bucky turned on the exterior sound system.

“Are you sure about this?” Clint asked.

“Cap said jump, so jump!” Sam said. They seemed to be bracing themselves, so when they leaped off the edge of the Raft, Bucky was there to catch them with the open access hatch.

“Man am I glad to see you,” Clint said, staggering up to the cockpit. Sam stashed his duffel and waited by the open hatch.

“Where’s Steve?” Bucky asked, turning his attention back to the Raft.

“They took a detour to try to find something to get the collar off Wanda’s neck,” Clint told him. Bucky shuddered at the thought. “They should be here soon. Oh look, look, there’s Scott.” Scott seemed to be having trouble, limping along as he tried to run, the last duffel bouncing on his back. Bucky edged the jet closer, and Sam reached out to catch him as he jumped. Clint went to help them stow the gear and then returned to the copilot’s seat as Bucky put some more space between him and the Raft, watching anxiously for Steve.

“I thought you said he’d be here soon,” Bucky said as the minutes passed with no sign of Steve or the girl.

“They’re supposed to be. We’re not leaving without them, right?” Bucky glared at Clint. “Right, of course. I’m sure they’ll be here any second now.” Another minute passed, the only sounds coming from Sam as he checked up on Scott.

“Sam,” Bucky called eventually. Sam ducked his head into the cockpit. “Can you fly down there and tell me if you see anything?” Sam gave him a considering look.

“Just don’t leave without me, man, I can’t cross the ocean alone.” He turned and headed for the hatch.

“What, but his gear isn’t even on him!” Clint said as Sam jumped out of the jet. He disappeared almost instantly, his smaller hawk form harder to spot. Bucky kept an eye on him, watching him fly down to the door they’d left open to the Raft. Sam fluttered near it for a moment and then dove inside. Bucky kept his hand on the controls, ready to dive himself as soon as Steve showed up. It was a tense few minutes, and then Sam burst into the air, making a few tight loops. Bucky took that as a signal and brought the jet down. A guard was thrown out the door, and then Steve appeared with Wanda clinging to his back. Sam dove at the face of another guard who was following them as Steve sprinted for the hatch. A hail of bullets bounced off the sides of the jet, and Bucky swung closer, nearly sweeping Steve off his feet as he picked them up. He started closing the hatch, putting the jet in the guards’ faces and giving Sam time to swoop inside before the door completely closed. As soon as he was sure they were all there, Bucky put the shields back on the jet and took off, leaving the Raft as an ever-shrinking dot behind them until it was gone.

Bucky focused on flying, Clint acting as copilot until they were far enough away that they were sure they weren’t being followed. Then Clint headed into the back, and Bucky tried to block out the murmured conversation between them, inputting the device T’Challa had given them and pointing the jet towards Wakanda. Steve came up and took the vacant copilot’s seat after a moment.

“We can’t get the collar off of Wanda,” Steve said, and Bucky flinched. He took a few deep breaths and switched on autopilot.

“Bring her to me,” he said. Steve left, and there was another murmured conversation before he guided Wanda to the seat. The straitjacket she was wearing had been torn, but her arms remained voluntarily wrapped tightly around herself. Bucky turned his seat to face her, leaning in to examine the collar around her neck. When he was satisfied it wouldn’t take her head off if it was destroyed, he hefted the metal arm, hooked his fingers around the device, and crushed it. After that it was easy to tear the thing off and toss it towards the back of the jet where he wouldn’t have to see it. Wanda lifted her hands and rubbed her fingers over her neck, before a spark of her red power shredded the straitjacket further.

“Thank you,” she said. Bucky shrugged and turned back to look out at the sky.

“No one deserves to be collared.”

~~

Wakanda was everything they expected while also being nothing like they expected. Buildings that gleamed and shone rose out of thick, lush jungle. People walked barefoot down dirt lanes between the trees and accomplished technological marvels. Birds rode around on heads and shoulders, and it seemed half the people there could turn into some kind of animal. It made Bucky want to relax and tense up at the same time, and it seemed like Sam was feeling the same way. They found themselves huddling close together when they were led to T’Challa’s home, Steve in front and the others behind. A few of the citizens stared at Bucky, and when he bared his teeth, they bared theirs back, meeting his growl and flashing eyes with their own. Sam grabbed his jacket and dragged him along, pushing Steve to continue when he tried to turn towards them.

“Let’s not make a bad impression our first time here,” Sam said. “I don’t want to be uninvited so soon.” Steve set his jaw but nodded and kept going.

~~

Their stay in Wakanda, while restful and thankfully free of that ‘hunted’ feeling, still felt…wrong. It wasn’t home, and even though the people were nice and they had taught the bunch of them a lot, Bucky didn’t fit in there. The Wakandan shifters were comprised of local animals, some leopards and panthers like T’Challa, then everything from crocodiles to lions to parrots, and even rumors of elephants. Sam was right at home as an African goshawk, but while there were wild dogs, Bucky was the only wolf. He was a wolf without a pack, and he felt restless, with a constant itch under his skin that never went away no matter what he tried. Steve tried to help, but what Bucky wanted most was to run, to change and disappear and go _home_ , even if he wasn’t sure where home was.

The option of going back into cryo had been offered to him. It wouldn’t take long for them to prepare a pod for him, he’d been told. He talked about it with the team, held a few one on one debates, and tried to ignore the way Steve looked like someone had kicked his puppy every time the subject came up. Eventually, Bucky decided against it. The wolf’s simpler mind was a refuge. It was quieter there, the personalities of the Asset and the Soldier staying asleep whenever he was on four legs. Hydra had never known how to truly command the wolf without a load of drugs already on board. If he became a danger again, he could always shift and run. 

The Wakandan scientists had been fascinated by his arm when he’d finally let them study it. It had taken him a while, almost a week, to let himself be convinced by Steve. “They can’t reattach it (are you sure you want them to?) if they don’t know how it works, Bucky.” So he had reluctantly set it on a table and stepped back, hovering nearby to make sure they didn’t do anything he wouldn’t approve of. (“Dude, pretty sure Bucky would tear _their_ arms off if they so much as twitched in the wrong direction,” he heard Sam mutter to Steve in the hallway.) But they had been respectful, poking at it with thin tools that made small _tink_ sounds on the plates, and making sympathetic noises when they got a closer look at the damaged upper arm. They had asked his permission before removing damaged plates from both the severed arm and the part still attached to him, so they could study them and see what they could do about replacing them. Part of Bucky screamed at letting the plates be taken out of his sight, that they wouldn’t be able to replace them, but he shoved it down with all the other parts he didn’t like to think about.

It took months for them to proclaim the arm was beyond their understanding. What brought them to that point was a pair of scans, one taken at the beginning of study and the second more recent, when they realized the arm was slowly regenerating the section that had been vaporized by Stark. The damaged plates that had been removed were slowly unbending themselves and getting back into shape, the remaining ones realigning back into their correct position. Which was when they brought the team in together.

“As far as we can figure, the arm is alien technology,” the lead scientist, a young man, told them. “The metal closely resembles vibranium, which you may know was developed from the contents of an asteroid. We believe its origins are similar, and that Hydra either stole it, or found it and shaped it to suit their needs. There is some human technology of varying ages inside it, but the core of the arm is beyond what anyone would have been able to make, _and_ have it be functional, even twenty, thirty years ago, let alone seventy.”

“What does that mean for us less smart people?” Clint asked, raising a hand.

“It’s sort of like magic,” Bucky said gruffly. “Left on its own long enough, the arm will heal any damage to itself. It’s happened before, but it’s also never been cut off by a laser before.” The scientists exchanged looks and nodded.

“There are some disturbing items we found inside it. Trackers, chemical injectors and weapons, even a small bomb. All used to keep—”

“To keep the Asset compliant, controlled, and observed. And so they could blow me up if I ever went truly rogue or was captured without hope of return.” Steve looked pained as Bucky spoke, his voice flat. “They pumped me full of drugs that they stored in the arm, with direct lines to my heart. Kept me complacent, so that I would listen to them easier. The Americans didn’t have the words to wipe my slate clean, so they had to use other methods.”

“The damage to the arm deactivated most of the trackers and the bomb. We were able to remove them all and disable the ones still functional. The injection lines may require surgery to fully remove from your body,” one of the women said. Bucky bared his teeth at her, but she just looked at him calmly. “They may still contain traces of the drugs.” Bucky shook his head.

“I burned through all those years ago. The withdrawal nearly killed me when nothing else could.” Scott let out a low whistle in the back, followed immediately by a hushed “Sorry!”

“When did the drugs run out?” Sam asked. Bucky glanced at him.

“A month after the carriers went down. I was holed up in Boston.” Bucky paused and licked his lips, which were feeling dry. “I…think that’s when Dog found me. I don’t really remember, but when the fever broke and I woke up, he was there.”

“Bet it was nice, not to be recovering alone,” Clint said. Bucky looked at him and dipped his head in a nod.

“He was warm. And he wasn’t afraid of me.” The rest of the team exchanged looks. Wanda took a deep breath and stepped closer, holding out a hand and waiting until Bucky looked at her before laying her hand on top of his.

“He sounds like a good friend,” she said gently. Bucky managed a smile and nodded.

“Right, well. As soon as we’ve made sure everything nasty has been removed from your arm, we can see about reattaching it,” one of the scientists said. They started going into detail, listing the things that needed to be done before they could proclaim the arm safe, and Bucky struggled to focus on it. He missed the way the rest of the team was looking at each other, and then he had to struggle not to jump off the table when something warm pressed against his back. Bucky looked around and saw Clint was sitting on the other side of the table, back to back with him so he was warm from shoulders to hips.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore, Buck. We’re here to help you,” Steve said. Bucky just nodded and turned his attention back to the scientists as Sam questioned something they had said. Maybe everything would be okay after all. 


	2. The Farm

When they were finally able to return to the US, it was with a fair amount of nerves and anxiety on all sides. Bucky had sent himself to the back early on, letting Clint and Steve worry about piloting while he took the farthest seat he could get from the others. Even where he was sitting, he could see Wanda’s hands clenched in her lap, while Scott seemed to almost be vibrating in place. Sam appeared to be trying to nap, his arms crossed over his chest.

Bucky’s arm had been reattached two months ago. The team of Wakandan scientists who were working on it—and him—had studied him closely since then to make sure it was functioning correctly and wasn’t hurting him. The close surveillance made his skin crawl. All he wanted was to shift and curl into himself…but he was scared. He wasn’t sure the metal limb would still change shape when he changed forms. He hadn’t shifted since he’d left Romania. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to.

The others had started to form tentative pack bonds with Bucky, though he wasn’t sure if they knew that. The only other shifter among them was Sam, and there was no telling if birds worked the same way, especially if they weren’t usually flocking birds. The bonds were shaky, they would be easily severed, and none of them felt anywhere near as strong as his bond with Dog. Scott’s connection was the weakest, and he seemed the most oblivious, too focused on maybe being able to see his daughter again.

Steve seemed aware of it, though Bucky had the suspicion Sam had been telling him a lot about shifters. Either way, Steve did a lot of staring at Bucky with a variety of expressions on his face and differing levels of constipation.

Clint had a habit of draping himself over Bucky at every opportunity, getting close enough to touch with pretend absentmindedness. Bucky knew it was fake because Clint always made sure Bucky knew he was there before slumping against him in the early morning and groaning about coffee. He wasn’t really sure why he was doing it, but the warmth was welcome. Sometimes, alone in the middle of the night, Bucky thought that Clint would make a good wolf.

Wanda was as cautious and wary of him as he was of her. He’d overheard Steve and Sam talking about how people were afraid of her too, how they’d bound her up so tightly in the Raft that she couldn’t feel her fingers some days. The magic in her hands scared Bucky, but she’d never turned it on him. The closest she came to him were occasional touches to his right hand, fleeting and light, and quickly removed.

Bucky sighed and settled deeper into his corner, wedging his shoulders against the walls. The flight from Wakanda to America was long. He might as well try to get some sleep.

He woke up with Clint’s head pillowed on his leg, the archer stretched out along the bench seats and snoring. Bucky stared at Clint for a moment and then carefully adjusted his head so he would stop snoring, figuring it was better than pinching his nose shut. He looked up and around for the others. Scott was similarly passed out on the other side of the jet, a jacket half-covering his face. Sam and Steve were talking quietly in the cockpit. Wanda was somewhere out of sight, and he couldn’t hear her. Maybe she had crept into the cargo hold. Bucky leaned over and grabbed the prison shirt Clint had tossed aside months ago out of the corner it had ended up in, balling it up as he eased his thigh out from under Clint’s head, slipping the shirt there in his place. He stood and looked at him for a moment, then removed his own jacket and draped it over Clint. Bucky sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face and through his hair. He stepped into the tiny bathroom the jet offered for a moment and then made his way to the front.

“Hey, Bucky. You sleep okay?” Steve asked when he loomed over them. Bucky frowned and studied each of them in turn.

“Fine. Where are we?”

“Still over the Atlantic. We’ve got a few hours until we reach land, and then another few hours after that before we reach the farm.” Bucky nodded and tapped Steve on the shoulder.

“I’ll take over. You go sleep.”

“I’m fine Buck, I can keep going—”

“Rogers. Sleep,” Bucky interrupted, staring down at him. “There’s nothing to see but ocean and you’ve been awake since before we left Wakanda. You’re no good to us if your eyes fall out of your head. Sam will wake you if anything goes wrong.” Steve glanced across at Sam, who raised his eyebrows but said nothing, and then looked back up at him.

“Yeah, okay, Bucky. You’ll let me know if you need help?” Bucky nodded, stepping aside so Steve could squeeze by, the two of them pressed together from chest to knees for a second in the tiny space. Bucky dropped into the still warm seat and started reading the dash.

“I’ll throw a boot into the back if I need help. Whoever it hits can come be my copilot,” he muttered. Sam snorted a laugh and stood to squeeze past Steve and head into the back. Steve hovered in the doorway for a moment, and then squeezed Bucky’s shoulder before going to stretch out on the spare bit of seats left.

Land had appeared on the horizon by the time someone joined Bucky in the pit. They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Bucky looked over and did a double take.

“Barton. What is on your face.”

“What?” Clint lifted a hand and patted his face. Bucky reached out and poked the side of his mouth, some of the brown stuff coming off on his metal finger. “Aw, chocolate, no.” He grabbed Bucky’s hand and licked the chocolate off it. Bucky wrinkled his nose and wiped his finger on Clint’s shirt. “I had a chocolate bar in my pocket, I forgot I put it there. It was all melty, but it was chocolate so I ate it anyway.” Bucky grunted.

“Go clean yourself up, you’re disgracing the team.”

“Sir yes sir.” Clint gave him a snappy salute and went whistling into the back.

“Are we there yet?” Scott whined as Clint passed him. “I feel like a can of sardines.”

“Be glad you can’t see Barnes from here, I’m sure he’s glaring at you,” Clint said. The door shut and silence fell again for a minute before Sam and Scott started talking in low voices. Bucky blocked them out, guiding the jet away from the big coastal cities and further into middle America. He became aware of Clint sitting next to him again as they approached their destination, and ceded control to him since Bucky had never actually been there.

Clint flew the jet with the ease of long practice, smoothly descending and then landing it behind the big red barn on his property. The house stood at the top of a small rise across the farmyard with a couple trucks parked in the driveway and a chicken coop on the side. Clint left Bucky to finish doing the checks and make sure the jet was shut down while he roused everyone else and gathered their gear together to disembark. Bucky could feel the breeze ruffling his hair when they opened the door, and the scents had him hurrying to finish. The team was still gathered just outside the door when he stepped out, most of them groaning and stretching. Wanda had ended up wearing his jacket, and he would spare a thought later to wonder about how that had happened and why it also smelled like Steve, but there was a golden ball of fur picking itself up off the porch of the house and bounding to meet them, and before Bucky knew it he was sprinting across the yard, heedless of the shouts both behind him and at the house as he shifted, easy as breathing. He met Dog in the middle of the yard, the two of them slamming together eagerly and rolling around in a mix of gold and dark brown fur, tails wagging and bodies quivering in excitement as they sniffed and nipped at each other.

“It’s okay! It’s okay! Laura, it’s okay, I swear!” Clint said, running up behind them. The woman on the porch was holding a gun and pointing it at Bucky, who froze and crouched low, Dog moving to stand over him protectively. Steve quickly came forward, putting himself between Bucky and the gun as Clint ran up onto the porch. “Laura, put the gun _down_. He’s not going to hurt anyone.” Laura lowered the gun and eyed them all.

“Clint, that is a _wolf_.”

“It’s a friendly wolf, and it’s also a person.” Bucky inched forward so he could see between Steve’s planted legs. Laura was staring at Clint like he was crazy.

“Have you gotten enough sleep lately, sweetheart?”

“What? Yes, I’m fine. That wolf is actually the guy who sent the dog here. Turns out werewolves are a thing, ta-da.” Steve slowly edged aside so she could see the way Dog was licking Bucky’s ears, making his fur stand up. She watched them carefully for a minute and then flicked the safety on, stowing the gun away. Bucky shook himself and stood, Dog leaving his paws on his shoulders to keep licking his ears until Bucky slipped out from under him to return the favor. Dog allowed it for a moment and then barked and took off across the yard, Bucky hot on his heels. “Just don’t eat the chickens!” Clint called after them. The rest of the team gathered on the porch while Bucky and Dog chased each other around the yard, some of them quickly heading inside. It felt good to stretch his legs and burn off some energy, almost as good as it felt to see and smell and touch his packmate again. When they were both panting, Dog led Bucky to the house, pushing the door open with his head and leading the way inside. Clint, Steve, Sam, and Laura were sitting at the kitchen table. Bucky went straight to Steve, nudging his hand so that Steve would scratch his ears.

“Looks like all those worries were for nothing, huh, Buck?” he said softly. Bucky sneezed at him and followed Dog to the water bowl, then Bucky sprawled out on the floor next to the table, and Dog flopped down on top of him. He took a few minutes to catch his breath, and then tuned into the conversation to hear Laura speaking.

“You can’t blame me for being scared when Lucky jumped off the porch and charged at a wolf.”

“I know Laura, but we wouldn’t have brought just any wolf with us. He wasn’t going to hurt Lucky.” Bucky shifted and eyed the people at the table, still sprawled on the floor with Dog draped over his back.

“…You named the dog Lucky,” he said, staring at Clint. He raised his hands in surrender.

“Don’t blame me, it was the kids.”

“Lucky and Bucky,” Sam said slowly, sounding it out. Bucky glared at him and then turned his glare to Steve when he snorted. Steve clapped a hand over his mouth and then burst out laughing. Bucky’s glare intensified.

“Sorry, Buck, it’s just funny!” Bucky grumbled and shifted back, Dog nosing at his jaw until he curled up tighter. “Aw come on, I’m not making fun of you!” Bucky just huffed and buried his head under Dog.

“Just let him be, Steve, he’ll get over it,” Sam said between chuckles. Bucky tuned them out again and woke sometime later when the front door slammed open, wondering when he’d fallen asleep in the first place.

“Cooper, I told you to be careful with the door!” Laura’s voice rang out from somewhere upstairs. There was the sound of shoes and bags being dropped by the door, and then an excited screech before Bucky was tackled by a small body. Only Dog still lying on top of him kept him from jumping up.

“Mom! Did we get a new dog?!” a young male voice called.

“Cooper, Lila, stay away from him!” Laura said, sounding slightly panicked as she started down the stairs.

“They’re fine, Laura, I’m watching them,” Clint called to her. Bucky lifted his head to see Clint standing in the doorway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. There was a small child roughly petting his fur and reaching up to tug on his ears and poke at his muzzle. Dog just wagged his tail and licked the girl’s cheek while the boy came to join her in petting Bucky’s fur, albeit more gently.

“What’s his name?”

“His name is Bucky, and no, he’s not ours to keep, Cooper,” Clint said. “He came here with Steve, who’s friends with the guy who sent Lucky to us.”

“Bucky and Lucky,” Cooper said.

“They match!” Lila said excitedly. Bucky looked at the two kids and then over at Clint as Laura joined him in the doorway. Clint smirked at him.

“Steve’s outside running around the house, if you were wondering. The others are mostly napping.” Bucky sighed and flopped back down, letting the kids continue to pet him.

“Lila, Cooper, do you have homework?” Laura asked. Cooper groaned and made like he was going to join the fur pile.

“Mooom.”

“Don’t even. You know it’s best to get it done before dinner. Go on now, both of you.” The kids groaned and dragged themselves away from Bucky and Dog dramatically. Bucky looked at Laura and wagged his tail once in thanks before shoving his head back under Dog to hide his poor ears. 

~~

The pseudo-Avengers assembled around the table for dinner with the Bartons, Clint at the head with the high chair for the baby at the corner between himself and Laura. Cooper sat between Laura and Wanda, Lila in between Steve and Sam on the other side of the table, and Scott at the foot of the table perched on a stool, the mismatched furniture in the kitchen showing just how infrequently they had guests. Clint was struggling not to slouch into an armchair pulled from the front room and Laura had repurposed a cushion from the couch to pad her stepladder.

“You gonna join us Bucky?” Steve asked, looking down at him. Bucky looked pointedly at the crowded table and then flopped down on the floor with his head on Steve’s foot.

“Lucky gets in trouble for begging at the table,” Lila informed Steve solemnly. His eyebrows went up.

“The food on your plate is for you, Lila, not for him. Lucky gets his own food,” Laura said, the words sounding well-practiced. Lila grumbled about not liking something, and Bucky snorted.

“We’re used to taking turns at dinner when we have company,” Clint said. “The food will still be warm for any two-legged guests who show up later.” He looked down at Bucky, who wagged his tail once to show he’d heard and understood. Bucky found himself dozing off again, the flow of conversation washing over him and Steve’s warm presence reassuring by his face. A sharp sudden pain in his tail had him jolting awake with a yelp and then spinning around with a snarl to bite the offender. A series of shouts rang out, Steve’s “Bucky, no!” barely standing out, and then someone clamped hard on his ruff just as his teeth connected. Bucky froze, his jaws closed around a leg but not puncturing skin or even cloth, when he knew from experience he could bite right through bone. Dog’s jaws were clamped down on him, holding but not hurting, with a small buzz of sound in his throat.

“Alright. I’m alright, we’re okay,” Clint said soothingly and oh, it was Clint’s leg between his teeth. His stance adjusted as he leaned down, gently petting first Bucky’s ears and then Dog’s. “We’re all just gonna let go of each other now, okay?” Bucky slowly pulled his teeth away from Clint’s leg, licking the taste of his pants from his mouth as Dog carefully let him go to sniff at Clint himself. “There we go. Good boys, good dog.” Clint’s hand returned to pet him, scratching gently around his ears.

“Is Uncle Clint gonna be okay?” Lila asked in a stage whisper. Bucky whimpered and untangled himself to bolt from the room, ducking his head and shoving the front door open with his shoulders _(“Bucky, wait!”)_ and sprinting out into the night. More shouting echoed behind him but his dark fur quickly blended into the shadows and he darted behind the barn so that not even enhanced eyesight could track him. Barking and several sets of footsteps had followed him into the darkness, so Bucky ran for the trees once he’d gotten out of sight, knowing he’d lose most of his followers that way. Dog would be able to track him, and maybe Steve, but he didn’t want to see Steve so he kept running.

It was a while later, he didn’t know how long, when he stopped and flopped down beside a stream to catch his breath and listen for pursuers. The wildlife had gone quiet as he passed, so at first all he heard was the water bubbling over the rocks, but as he listened he could hear faint calls of his name echoing through the trees. It sounded like Steve. Bucky whined and pinned his ears back. He got up after a moment of indecision, drank from the stream to wash the taste of Clint’s pant leg from his mouth, and then slowly and carefully circled his way back around to the farm, making sure to stay well out of Steve’s hearing range. Bucky didn’t want to spend the night in the forest, and the barn should be warm enough. Plus no one should think to look for him there since he’d run right past it and Steve was currently out crashing through the woods like a herd of elephants trying to find him.

When Bucky finally made it back to where he could see the house, there were a few people standing in the yard just past the edge of the porch; Scott and Wanda, he thought. The Bartons were nowhere in sight, but a light in an upstairs window showed they were probably putting the kids to bed. Bucky stayed low in the shadows until Scott and Wanda went into the house, and then he hurried and crept into the barn. There was a small light by the door illuminating the space, but it was easy to find a dark corner to curl up in. The emotions he was suppressing proved too much to hold, and he found himself shaking back into human form as Dog snuck into the barn after him. Dog grumbled at him but pushed into Bucky’s arms, letting him curl around him and cry into his fur. Bucky tried to restrain himself, not wanting to hurt Dog, his metal fingers twitching in the urge to grip tight when Clint slipped quietly into the barn and shut the door behind himself.

“Hey,” he said softly. Bucky turned his head enough to get one eye out of Dog’s fur, giving him a brief once-over, and then hid away again. Clint sighed and approached them slowly, picking his way through the barn in the dim light. He sat down on a straw bale near them. “You know you didn’t hurt me, right? Gave everyone a scare, sure, but I’m still intact. You didn’t break skin. You didn’t even tear my pants. Worst you did is get drool on them. See?” Clint pulled up his pant leg to show off his lack of injury. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“…But I could have,” Bucky said, loosening his hold on Dog so he could look at Clint. His voice was rough, hoarse and scratchy. “I could have taken your leg off.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I _could have_. The UN’s right. I’m too dangerous to be around people. I should have gone back into cryo when I had the chance.”

“Hey, no.” Clint reached out and Bucky couldn’t help flinching away. Clint paused, then slowly continued the motion to put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky tried to keep himself from leaning into the point of contact. “You haven’t hurt me. You haven’t hurt anyone.”

“I’ve hurt a lot of people.”

“And how many of those were you given a choice about?” Clint was looking at him so seriously that Bucky had to drop his gaze, his right hand coming up to brush the wetness from his face. “It was either you hurt someone, or someone was gonna hurt you. You didn’t have a choice.” He paused and tried to catch Bucky’s eyes. “I know it’s hard to hear. I’ve had people telling me the same thing for three years. I didn’t have a choice either, but it was still me, still us, that hurt those people. It was not my fault, and it was not your fault.” Bucky finally looked up as Clint knelt next to him, and when Clint held out his arms, Bucky fell against his chest, clinging to him tightly. Clint wheezed but held him close when Bucky moved to pull away. “You’re okay,” he said softly. Bucky closed his eyes and nuzzled into his shoulder as Clint rubbed a hand up and down his back. They sat there for several minutes until Bucky felt in control of himself enough to pull away. Clint let him go but kept his hands on Bucky’s arms and gave him a wry grin.

“Let’s go get you some dinner, okay? I could almost hear your stomach from outside.” As if on cue, Bucky’s stomach growled, and he pressed a hand to it. Clint chuckled and stood up, brushing the straw from his jeans before offering a hand to pull Bucky up. “When was the last time you ate, anyway?”

“Um…I think it was yesterday,” Bucky said softly. Clint looked at him quickly.

“Before we left Wakanda?” he asked. Bucky just nodded in response. “Aw, man. Come on, food’s waiting for you in the house. You know you’re allowed to eat, right? You can ask us for food and stuff, you won’t get in trouble for it.” He slung his arm over Bucky’s shoulders and led him out of the barn, Dog trotting along at their feet. “We’ve all been worried about you, you know that? Steve’s probably losing his mind out there in the woods right now; hopefully Sam will be able to get him to come in soon. Otherwise, I think he’d stay out there all night.” Clint steered Bucky into the house and straight to the table. “Now you just sit there and I’ll get you something.” Bucky sat quietly and watched Clint bustle around the kitchen, opening containers and sticking things in the microwave.

“Clint?” Bucky said, his voice still rough.

“Yeah?” Clint asked without turning around. Bucky swallowed a few times and tried to find his voice.

“Thank you.” Clint paused and turned to him with a smile, bringing over a loaded plate and setting it and a glass of water on the table in front of Bucky.

“Hey, that’s what friends are for, man.” He patted Bucky on the back and turned away. “You just enjoy that and don’t worry about things for a while, okay? Everything will turn out fine.” Bucky wasn’t sure he believed him, but he smiled anyway and turned to the food. He was rather hungry. 

~~

Bucky woke up when the morning sunlight fell onto his face. He grimaced, screwing his eyes shut, before lifting his left arm to drag his hand over his face. He paused when there was interference and glanced down. Bucky was lying on the couch with a blanket draped over him and no memory of how he’d gotten there, and sitting on the floor next to the couch was Steve, who had fallen asleep with his neck at an awkward angle and his head resting on the couch next to Bucky’s right hand.

Bucky groaned and rubbed his face, the cool metal helping to wake himself up. He pushed himself up on his elbow and looked around, flopping back down on the couch when he didn’t see anyone else around. He looked back down at Steve, who hadn’t been woken by his movement. Bucky considered him for a moment, then shifted his hand over a few inches to bury it in Steve’s hair. He let the strands sift through his fingers, admiring how the morning light turned his hair to gold. Steve sighed and the frown lines on his face smoothed out as he settled more against the couch. Bucky quirked a smile and continued to pet Steve’s head, almost losing himself in the softness of his hair.

Bucky jumped when he heard sudden loud footsteps on the stairs and jerked his hand away from Steve’s head as he stirred. Lila Barton ran into view, crept (badly) around the couch, and jumped into Steve’s lap.

“Uncle Steve, are you awake?” she stage-whispered in his face as he startled awake and groaned.

“I am now,” he said, one arm automatically going around her waist to keep her from falling off his lap.

“Lila, I told you to leave him alone!” Laura said, following her into the room.

“It’s—it’s okay Laura,” Steve said, pausing in the middle to yawn in a way that reminded Bucky of the lion shifters back in Wakanda. “If I slept on the floor any longer I’d probably regret it.” He made a face and rubbed his neck. “…More than I already do, that is.” Bucky had a split second to decide whether or not he wanted to pretend to be asleep still, snapping his eyes shut as Lila turned and spotted him.

“Uncle Steve, who’s that?” she asked in her whisper. Bucky could feel three sets of eyes fixing on him and fought the urge to twitch.

“That? Uh…That’s my friend Bucky.”

“Bucky like your dog?”

“Um…”

“Lila, come on, let’s go start breakfast,” Laura said. “You can help me set the table.” Lila scrambled out of Steve’s lap, resulting in another groan from the man, and scurried into the kitchen after her mother. Bucky waited a moment and then sat up, pulling the blanket off of himself.

“Rise and shine, Rogers,” he warned. Steve ducked as Bucky swung off the couch, one thigh and then the other brushing the top of his head as Bucky stepped over him. Bucky dropped the blanket on him, and when Steve dragged it off it left his hair sticking up, giving him the rare impression of innocence as he blinked in confusion. Bucky felt something stir in his gut that he put down to hunger.

“Bucky? When did you wake up?” Steve asked.

“Half an hour ago. Up and at ‘em, champ, you need to make yourself presentable. Where’s the bathroom in this place?” Steve wordlessly pointed at the hall, so Bucky turned and left him there, still sitting on the floor and blinking after him. Bucky spent several long minutes staring in the mirror, trying to make himself look as harmless as possible. He didn’t want to scare the poor kids. When he finally finished and opened the door, he found Steve sleepily leaning against the wall next to the bathroom.

“Done primping?” Steve asked.

“There might still be some warm water left…if you’re lucky,” Bucky replied, slipping past him. Once Steve stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, Bucky stopped and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the house. He could easily hear Laura and Lila in the kitchen and a few people moving around in the second level. Taking a gamble that one of them was Clint, Bucky slipped up the stairs without being noticed and sniffed around until he located Clint, standing in Cooper’s room with the baby on his hip. They all turned to look at him when he knocked.

“Hey Clint. Got a sec?” Bucky asked, leaning on the frame.

“Here, Coop, take Nate downstairs for me, would you?” Cooper nodded and took the baby, brushing past Bucky on his way out of the room. Bucky watched him head down the stairs and then stepped into the room, closing the door behind himself. “What is it, Bucky?”

“We need to decide what to tell them about me. Having Bucky the human and Bucky the wolf is going to get confusing, and Cooper at least is old enough to figure out the wolf and the man are never seen together. And that’s if they don’t see me shift. I can try to hide it, but there’s always a chance something could set me off,” Bucky told him. Clint sighed and sat down on Cooper’s bed.

“I know. You’ve got a point. But how do you explain werewolves to kids?”

“I would suggest telling them and then letting them ask their questions.” He paused. “Laura, too. I’m sure she’s curious.” Bucky eyed Clint. “And the rest of you haven’t exactly been nosy.” Clint gave him a sheepish smile.

“Steve might have said something…?” 

Bucky sighed. “Of course he did.” He ran his hands through his hair, flicking it back into place. “Do the kids have school today?”

“No, today’s Saturday.”

“I suggest we have a team-slash-family meeting directly after breakfast. You lot can get all your questions out in one go, or at least as many as I can stand. Sound good?”

“That sounds…fine. Actually, you sound kind of weird though. Weirdly…open?” Clint raised his hands. “No offense though, man.” Bucky grimaced.

“I do have a personality under all the doom and gloom. It’s just…hard to bring it out. But I don’t want to scare the kids if I’m gonna be human-shaped around them. I…used to have siblings. I was good with kids. Steve was terrified of them.”

“Now that sounds like it’s got a story behind it, but if we don’t get downstairs, all the breakfast will get eaten before it even has a chance to go cold.” Clint crossed the room and clapped him on the shoulder before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. “You coming?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Bucky braced himself for the coming questions and followed Clint down to the kitchen. Sam and Wanda were helping Laura with breakfast preparations, the kids and Steve in their same seats from the night before. Steve was groaning and rolling his head, trying to work the kinks from his neck.

“Hold still Rogers,” Bucky said, stepping up behind him. He set his hands on either side of Steve’s neck and started massaging the knots out with his thumbs. Steve groaned appreciatively.

“Ohhh man, that feels so good.” Clint cleared his throat and Steve looked up. Bucky couldn’t see his face, but he could see and feel when Steve’s neck turned red. He had the strange urge to bite it, but he shook it off, gave Steve one more rub, and went to claim Scott’s seat from last night, at the end of the table. He didn’t want to feel crowded during breakfast or the interrogation that would follow. The stool would be easy to escape from if he needed to get away from the table.

“First round of coffee’s ready,” Sam said, already pouring his own mug. Steve pushed up from the table and went to stand with him while Bucky tried to ignore the fact that all three kids were staring at him.

“Here you go, Buck,” Steve said, handing a mug to him. Bucky took a sip and grimaced.

“Ugh, Rogers, what is this—” he paused and glanced at the kids, “—crap you gave me?”

“Oops, sorry Bucky, I must’ve given you the wrong one by accident,” Steve said innocently, switching out the mugs. Bucky stared at him suspiciously and sniffed the mug carefully before tasting it. It was appropriately sweet and a nice pale brown color, nothing like Steve’s cup of black swill. Sam snorted and started brewing another pot. Clint pulled Laura into the hallway for a quiet word, and then he took his seat at the table.

“Hey Lila, why don’t you come sit with Uncle Clint? We’re running out of room around the table, so you can sit on my lap,” Clint said.

“But I wanna sit by Uncle Steve,” Lila protested. Steve, who had been about to settle into the seat next to Bucky, froze and looked from Lila to Clint to Bucky. Bucky just raised his eyebrows over his mug and gave him a shooing motion.

“You better go, Uncle Steve. Wouldn’t want to disappoint the kid,” he muttered. Steve made a face at him and then moved down the table with Lila. When breakfast was ready and everyone had gathered, Bucky ended up with Sam at his right hand and Wanda at his left, Scott squeezed in between Sam and Steve as a result of showing up to the table last. Clint was doing his best to eat his breakfast with Lila on his lap as she filled the air with chatter, trying not to end up with a mouthful of hair or a pair of elbows in his gut. Bucky didn’t envy him that at all. He’d flinched the first time Sam’s knee knocked into his under the table, but then Sam had pressed their knees together on purpose and he’d adjusted to it. There was a bit more distance between him and Wanda, since there were smaller people and therefore more room on that side of the table, but he was still aware of the proximity.

Bucky was content to be left out of the ebb and flow of the conversation around the table, and then Dog came and rested his head on Bucky’s knee with a sigh, and Bucky buried his metal hand in his fur without thinking about it. Dog closed his eyes and leaned into the petting. Lila, Cooper, and the other Bartons quickly focused in on him, and Bucky tried not to tense up. Sam pressed harder against his knee and gave him a reassuring look when Bucky glanced at him.

“Alright, I guess we should explain,” Clint said, cutting Lila off just as she opened her mouth. “That’s Steve’s friend Bucky. You met him yesterday, but he wasn’t shaped like a person. Bucky is a werewolf.” Cooper’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, while Lila looked thoughtful. She twisted to stare up at Clint.

“So he was the dog we saw last night?” she asked. Clint nodded.

“Well, he was a wolf, not a dog, but yes.” Lila turned back and stared at Bucky.

“His hair is the same color,” she decided after a moment and took another bite of breakfast.

“Wait. Are you saying that werewolves are real?” Cooper asked, looking from Bucky to Clint to Laura and back.

“Would you like a demonstration?” Bucky asked, catching his attention. Cooper looked uncertain for a minute, and then he glanced at Clint and nodded. Bucky set down his mug and moved away from the table and the others. He took a deep breath and shifted, shaking out his fur, then stepped closer to push his head between Cooper and Wanda.

“That’s so cool,” Cooper breathed. Wanda twitched, and when Bucky looked at her, she was curling her fingers in. Bucky considered her and then offered his head. Wanda tentatively scratched around his ears.

“Lapdog,” Sam muttered under his breath, neatly ducking the swipe Steve took at him. Bucky moved on after another minute, going to stand between Laura and Clint’s chairs. Lila wasted no time leaning over and shoving both hands into his fur. Bucky had the feeling he was going to have to wash syrup out of his hair later. Clint put his hand on Bucky’s head, fingers digging in, and Bucky nearly melted as he hit just the right spot. Lila giggled.

“He likes pets just as much as Lucky!” she exclaimed. He sensed Laura slowly relaxing next to him. Bucky finally pulled himself away and went around to push between Scott and Steve. Both of them spent a minute looking without touching, and as Bucky went by, Sam brushed his hand in a few long strokes down Bucky’s back. When he shifted back and settled back in his seat, his face felt warm. He quickly picked his mug back up and hid behind it. Sam pressed their knees together again and Sleepy Dog resumed his position with his head on Bucky’s other knee.

“How did you become a werewolf? Were you born that way? Why did you have a metal leg?” Cooper asked. Bucky went tense and the adults shared a look.

“I lost my arm a long time ago, kid.” He held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers, the morning sun glinting off of them. “This is my prosthetic. It changes shape when I do because it’s magic.”

Sam cleared his throat and diverted back to Cooper’s first two questions and away from Bucky’s limb. “Have you heard the term ‘blood brothers’ before?” he asked Cooper.

“I think so…?”

“It’s when two people, essentially, promise to be friends for life, so they make a small cut on their hands and press them together, so that they share blood. That’s sort of how someone becomes a werewolf, like Bucky, or another kind of shapeshifter.”

“Are you a werewolf too?” Cooper asked. Sam shook his head.

“I turn into a hawk.” Both kids immediately turned to look at Clint, who raised his hands.

“Hey, don’t look at me. I’m still 100% normal human over here.”

“Some of the other Avengers, who aren’t here, can also change into an animal, but I’m leaving that up to them to tell you about, okay? It’s not nice to tell other people’s secrets for them,” Sam said. “And no, I’m not going to shift right now, because feathers are not easy to deal with first thing in the morning.” Lila giggled as a few of the others snickered.

“Does the full moon bother you? Is it a full moon today?” Cooper twisted around to try peering out the windows. Bucky and Sam both shook their heads.

“No, we can change back and forth any time we want. The moon has nothing to do with it,” Bucky said. “That’s a myth, and it comes from the fact that werewolves are most often spotted on full moon nights, because the night is brighter and we can’t hide as easily.”

“Plus people are superstitious and expect to see werewolves on full moons, so sometimes they tell themselves that they did see one, even if it was a regular wolf or a dog or just a funny looking tree,” Sam said. The kids laughed again, and Sam smiled.

“What else is a myth?” Laura asked. Bucky and Sam shared a look as tension crept into the air.

“Pretty much all of it,” Bucky said slowly. “If there’s werewolves that are true to the stories, that’s not what I am. We keep our consciousness. We’re not mindless beasts. I’m still me when I shift, and Sam is still Sam. We have some of the instincts, like the drive to seek a pack or a mate—”

“Or to migrate south for the winter,” Sam cut in with a rueful smile.

“But the only monsters among us are those who chose, or were forced to be that way.” Bucky had kept his eyes mostly on Sam, but with the next sentence he looked at Laura. “I don’t know how much Clint has told you, how much you know; I may have been the stuff of nightmares, but that isn’t because I grew fur and a tail.” He and Laura stared at each other for a minute and then he moved his attention to the kids.

“I am the one who sent Sleepy Dog here to you guys. He’d been following me around, getting me out of trouble and keeping me company for about a year before I sent him here. He’s been my friend.” Dog nosed closer to him and sighed as Bucky continued petting him. “He helped me learn how to use my wolf senses. Animals have a stronger sense of smell than people, so sometimes it was hard for me to even breathe if I got too close to something that smelled bad until I learned to deal with it.”

“If Uncle Clint became blood brothers with you, would he turn into a hawk?” Cooper asked.

“That depends on a lot of things. If it was with me, he’d probably become a wolf or some kind of dog. We pass on the same type of animal that we are. With Sam, he might become a hawk, or a falcon, or some other type of bird.”

“Maybe even a parrot, or a chicken,” Sam said.

“Oh that’s cold, Wilson,” Clint protested. Sam just smirked at him.

“What you become also kind of reflects who you are and where you come from. I’ve met some wolves who were like me, and some European wolves that all descended from the same person. Different kinds of cats can come from the same bloodline.” Bucky glanced at Sam to see if he wanted to add anything, and Sam cleared his throat and put his mug down.

“Some people are born being able to change. I had a friend who could, and a lot of his family became the same kind of bird. They were red-tailed hawks, but some of them became eagles instead. My friend and I were…blood brothers, but I’m not the same kind of hawk as he was. I’ve even passed it on myself, to someone who became a condor.” He fidgeted with the mug and sighed. “If we both tried it with Clint, he might become a bird, or a dog, or maybe he’d have a chance to be both, we don’t know.”

“There’s still a lot we don’t know about it even though we live with it.”

“We just have to roll with the punches,” Sam agreed. Bucky looked over and saw that Steve was staring at him intently. When Bucky quirked an eyebrow, Steve just shook his head.

“Alright, I think that’s enough questions for now,” Clint said. “Time to clean up the breakfast dishes.” He stood and set Lila down, shooing the kids along to chores with Scott and Wanda pitching in to help. Sam and Bucky silently decided to escape to the porch together. Sam brought his coffee mug along, and he cradled it in his hands as Bucky leaned on the railing, both of them staring out at the forest.

“What was his name?” Bucky asked after a few minutes, voice low under the sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen.

“Riley.”

“Did you love him?”

“…Yeah. Yeah, I did. But I lost him.” Bucky shifted over so that his side pressed against Sam’s.

“I know how that feels. But you’ve got friends here now.”

“Yeah.” Sam sighed and leaned into him, still clutching his mug. A creak of floorboards had Bucky turn to glance over his shoulder, only to see Steve’s back through the screen door as he retreated further into the house. 

~~

Time spent on the Barton farm became easier over the next few months. Laura adjusted to his presence, stopped fearing for her kids every time he was around, and actually started to smile sometimes. Sam and Steve started helping Clint with his house projects and were able to finish the addition of another two guest rooms so that none of them had to share anymore. Bucky spent a lot of time napping around the house, sometimes with Dog, sometimes on the nearest convenient human pillow, and sometimes with the nearest human falling asleep on top of him, occasionally with accompanying small grubby hands in his fur. Bucky refused to help with the renovations aside from the occasional rearrangement of awkwardly-shaped furniture.

Wanda traded off kitchen duty with Sam, making dinner on different days so Laura wouldn’t have to do it all the time, and after a while of Bucky lingering in the kitchen trying to figure out what exactly those smells were and why they were familiar, she roped him into helping her. Bucky found he didn’t mind either the lessons or the way Wanda bossed him around. It felt…nice. And he didn’t have to say much if he didn’t want to, but when he did, he discovered that he knew all of Wanda’s languages. Two or three nights a week the two of them would bustle around the kitchen, swapping words in Russian and Sokovian as easily as they passed knives and vegetables back and forth.

They seemed to have arrived right before prime holiday time. Halloween came with paper pumpkins and bats littering the house, an excess of orange and black-wrapped candies (several of which Bucky took when no one was looking), and constant debates over costumes. Lila ended up dressing as a werewolf, Cooper as Captain America, and baby Nathaniel was subjected to an itchy-looking pumpkin costume. He discarded the green stem-hat at the first opportunity, and Bucky helpfully sat on it. Then Laura and Clint packed the kids into the truck, and when they returned some hours later, they had three sleeping kids and plastic buckets full of candy. (The next day Lila sorted through her bucket and graciously gave Bucky all the candy she declared ‘yucky’.)

As soon as Halloween was over, Laura started stocking the freezers to capacity, Steve and Sam helped Clint ‘winterize’ the farm and stack firewood neatly in the shed next to the house, and the paper pumpkins were replaced by drawings of turkeys, which were made by placing one’s hand on a sheet of paper, tracing around it, and then coloring it in. The metal hand turkey was given pride of place on the refrigerator door. Laura, Sam, and Wanda spent three days in the kitchen baking and cooking, with utensils of various sharpness being brandished at anyone who dared interrupt. Then they spent one day crowding around the table and stuffing themselves until they were groaning and unable to move farther than the living room, where Clint subjected them to something called ‘football’ that seemed to be mostly people slamming each other into the ground. Bucky stayed out of the way, curled up in a corner with Dog. (If he’d let Steve feed him bits of turkey from his fingertips, well, he wasn’t admitting to it.)

Christmas was something Bucky could remember, but only in that shivery half-vague way that came with memories he’d barely touched on because they hurt too much. The house was strung with lights, decorations were placed everywhere, and then one day the kids didn’t go to school like normal. Instead, Clint dragged a huge sled out of the barn and all ten of them and Dog trekked out into the woods. Bucky took his turn pulling the sled with the kids hopping on and off, and he was _not_ wrinkling his nose at the snow, thank you very much, Rogers. Steve’s arm over his shoulders felt nice though.

They picked out a thick evergreen tree, cut it down with tools taken from a box on the sled, strapped it onto the sled, and made their way home. Steve was enthusiastically hauling the sled, so Bucky grumbled and shifted, making a game to chase the kids and Dog around the trees and through the snow drifts. It was colder than he liked, but shifting back would just mean wet clothes. As soon as they were in sight of the farm, Bucky sprinted ahead. He shifted and stripped his clothes off in the front hall since he was alone, grabbed a towel, put fresh clothes on, and had the hot chocolate and coffee almost ready by the time the others arrived on the porch. The newly dead tree was placed in Bucky’s favorite spot by the window and covered in lights, baubles, dried up gingerbread men, and strings of popcorn and cranberries, which seemed like a waste of food to him.

Steve and the others teased him for his grumbling, and then one morning he stumbled into the kitchen with Steve and became stuck in place in the doorway. Bucky scowled as his feet refused to move forward, and Wanda pointed up. There was a cluster of leaves taped to the top of the doorframe. A glimmer of red said Wanda was somehow keeping them under it. Steve went pink as Clint hooted at them.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” he chanted from his spot next to the stove.

“It’s mistletoe! You have to stay under it until you kiss, it’s magic!” Lila informed him. Bucky scowled at Clint and pecked Steve on the cheek, stepping free from the doorway. He could almost see Steve’s face bloom red from the point of contact.

“Aw, you’re no fun,” Clint grumbled. 

Bucky opted out of the snowball fights and snowman-building that occurred over the next week, and soon learned to avoid Steve after he came in and stuck his freezing fingers under Bucky’s sweater. Christmas Day came with a lot of shrieking, courtesy of Lila, and a fair amount of moping from the adults that they did their best to hide from the kids. Bucky glared at the pre-dawn darkness outside the windows and wedged himself in between Sam and Steve on the couch and ignored their good natured ribbing along with their elbows in his ribs. Colorfully wrapped packages were passed around until each person had a small pile as well as a large bulging sock. Bucky dug through his own large sock (with a sniff to make sure it hadn’t been worn first) and pulled out an orange. He proceeded to peel and eat it right there, leaving the peel on Steve’s thigh.

Breakfast after that consisted of bacon and cinnamon rolls. Bucky unashamedly took three cinnamon rolls and snapped his teeth at Steve’s fingers when he reached for Bucky’s plate. Steve frowned and threw a pancake at his face in response, to the sound of loud laughter and Laura telling the kids that no, it was not acceptable to start a food fight, _Steve_.

New Years Eve turned out to be a childless holiday, as none of them were yet able to stay awake until midnight. The television displayed Times Square in New York, and Steve went around with a sad face until Bucky shoved a glass of the champagne in his hand and shoved his shoulder into Steve’s armpit. There were strawberries in the champagne. It was acceptable. They counted down from ten to one, refrained from shouting to keep from waking the kids, and then Clint ran around the room kissing everyone at various spots on their faces. Bucky got a kiss on the nose that made him cross his eyes as Clint cackled. Steve just chuckled and kissed the top of his head, and Bucky leaned closer. Holidays maybe weren’t so bad.

~~

Another thing Bucky discovered was that the team were prone to sleepless nights. Turned out when you got together a bunch of soldiers and others who had been in a war zone, people who had witnessed and experienced terrible things, nightmares were prolific. The first night Clint had found Bucky sitting at the kitchen table in the near-dark, eyes wide and staring at his shaking hands, Clint had stopped him from leaving and handed him a warm mug. Bucky had sniffed it before giving it a taste. It was chocolate, with a slight cream flavor, and tiny marshmallows floating on top. There was also a bit of a bite to go with the slight smell of alcohol. Clint had sat across the table from him with his own mug and informed him it was hot chocolate with Bailey’s added. Bailey’s what, Bucky decided not to ask.

The number and arrangement of people sitting at the table at night changed frequently, and most of them had a preferred drink for their stages of late night kitchen moping. Scott and Sam tended to go for beers, and Steve had a lonely boring glass of milk until Bucky showed him the chocolate Ovaltine powder in the cupboard. Wanda took her hot chocolate with Kahlua added instead of Bailey’s. After Clint showed Bucky how to make basic hot chocolate, he experimented with the different things he could add to it. Ovaltine didn’t make much of a difference, and the Kahlua he only tried once, realizing the chocolate-to-coffee-flavor ratio wasn’t high enough. Whiskey was also acceptable, but he didn’t do it often. He even tried the strawberry and caramel syrups from the fridge, with Wanda demanding a taste. Both decided the strawberry was inferior.

It became something of a game. Clint started to bring home different kinds of hot chocolate mixes when he made supply runs, and soon the rest of the team joined in, bringing Bucky a new flavor to try every time they went to town. Peanut butter and pumpkin spice were acceptable, the sea salt caramel and Mexican hot chocolate became regulars even during the day, and the coconut rum was an abomination that had the whole team struggling not to wake the kids with their laughter when they saw Bucky’s reaction to it.

One night soon after New Year’s Bucky was surprised to see Laura taking a turn at the table, clutching her mug so tightly her knuckles were white. Bucky lingered in the shadowy doorway, considering just heading outside when Laura spoke.

“You gonna stand there all night?” she asked without otherwise moving. Bucky glanced around, but they were the only two in the house awake. He cautiously entered the kitchen, slipping around her to make his usual hot chocolate base. Laura watched him tiredly, then went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle. “Here, try this. Peppermint schnapps. You can thank me later.” Bucky eyed the bottle and dutifully added it to his hot chocolate after some subtle sniffing told him Laura’s mug was mostly full of it. He had to pause and close his eyes as he tasted it, the peppermint flavor mixing well with the chocolate and the coolness counteracting the warmth. Bucky wasn’t sure if the cold came from the mint or just the fact it had been in the fridge, and promised himself to try it warmed later on. They sat in silence, each of them savoring their drinks, and Bucky felt the tension slowly seeping out of him. Laura seemed more relaxed too, the silence turning companionable. When Bucky got up for a refill, Laura wordlessly handed over her mug, and then poured the schnapps for both of them when he sat back down. Eventually they finished their drinks, Laura yawning while Bucky couldn’t keep from rubbing his eyes. Bucky deposited the empty mugs in the sink while Laura put the bottle away, and he waited until she was halfway up the stairs before switching off the light when he was sure she could see her way.

“Goodnight Bucky,” she called, illuminated by the nightlight in the hallway.

“Goodnight Laura,” he said back, watching her disappear through her door before heading for his own room.

Overall, it was becoming easier at the farm. Bucky was starting to think of the team and the Barton family as his pack, welcome additions to Dog, feeling more comfortable with them with each day that went by.

So of course that’s when things took a turn for the worse. 

~~

His hot chocolate tasted…off that night, and Bucky wasn’t sure why. He even added more of the cocoa powder to it to see if that would make a difference and stubbornly kept sipping it until it was gone. Clint and Steve were up with him, and Steve was poking fun at the faces Bucky kept making, while Clint started yawning partway through and ended up wandering to bed with his half-full mug still sitting on the table. It would be a waste to dump it down the sink, so Bucky finished it off, chugging it so Steve could put the mug in the dishwasher and start it running. They went up the stairs together, Steve’s arm slung over his shoulders, and paused in the hallway. Normally they would part to separate rooms, but Bucky always made the first move, and that time he was frozen. Something…didn’t feel right. His breath was coming faster, his skin felt clammy, and after a moment he shoved away from Steve and hurried into the bathroom. He braced his hands on the counter and heard a crack but was too busy staring at himself in the mirror to care. His skin was pale, his jaw was aching, and his pupils were small dots in his pale blue eyes. Wait. Oh no.

“Buck? Everything okay in here?” Steve asked, popping his head into the bathroom just as Bucky shoved a metal finger into his own mouth and pulled his lips back. Sure enough, there were fangs, and they sliced into his lip when he let go. He turned his head to look at Steve and noticed his ears were also becoming pointed.

“Something’s—” The sound of breaking glass cut him off, his head whipping toward the front door as he shoved past Steve out of the bathroom. “Someone’s here,” he hissed at Steve. A few pairs of heavy footsteps—boots—and a muttered sentence in Russian had him turning his head towards the bedrooms and taking a deep breath, filling his lungs.

“ _WAKE UP!_ ” Steve flinched back at the volume, and baby Nathaniel instantly started crying. People woke with thuds and swears, echoed downstairs.

“Cap, what’s going on?” Sam asked, barging out of his room.

“Someone’s broken in,” Steve told him.

“It’s Hydra,” Bucky said quickly. He could feel himself trembling all the way down to his toes, and his heart was racing. “I’ve been drugged. Get Wanda, get Laura, get the kids out of here.” Glass breaking in a few of the bedrooms had them all jerking.

 _“The boy is not here,”_ he heard from Cooper’s room.

“Get the kids!” Bucky shouted, running down the hall and kicking Lila’s door open as she screamed. A man had his arm hooked around her neck, her shoulders pressed to his stomach and a gun to her temple.

“Coop! Cooper, where are you?!”

“Clint won’t wake up!”

“What’s going on?!”

Bucky tuned out the shouting and stared at the man who was holding Lila. She was crying and clutching the man’s arm in both small hands. The gun was holding steady.

“We don’t want them. We want you,” the man told him. “Come quietly, and she won’t get hurt.”

“Uncle Bucky,” Lila whined.

“Sh, sh Lila, it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be fine,” Bucky said, keeping his voice calm even though inside he was a tornado of emotions. “We’re just gonna step outside, right? Go down the stairs and out the front door and into the vehicle you got waiting, yeah?” The man nodded, and Bucky backed out the door, the man following and holding Lila tight. There was still shouting, but most of it was towards the back of the house, where the goons downstairs had most likely set a diversion.

“Bucky!” Steve, of course, was standing in the hallway, having just come out of Clint’s room. The man shoved the gun into Lila’s temple, and the girl wailed.

“We just want the Soldier,” the man informed Steve. “We won’t hurt the girl as long as you comply.” Bucky shivered as the familiar word passed through his ears, raising dozens of layers of memories. He could practically hear Steve going tense behind him, out of sight with Bucky’s back to him. The smell of Steve’s rage rolled through the hallway like a stormcloud, filling the air with electricity.

“You won’t get away with this,” he promised. The man just smirked and hoisted Lila into his arms, starting down the stairs with Bucky and Steve both following. The man’s boots crunched over broken glass from the front door, and Bucky walked through it with his bare feet, not caring about getting a wound that would heal in a minute anyways. His stomach was churning, and his senses were growing dull. He almost couldn’t feel the pain. There was a van idling in the driveway, a getaway driver watching them closely from his seat. Two goons were loading a third into the van while a fourth held the door open. The man holding Lila stood in front of the door until the others were all in, then he jerked his head at Bucky.

“Get in the van.”

“Let the girl go,” Bucky said as he stepped closer.

“Mm, I think maybe we will keep her, as insurance to make you behave. Get in.” Bucky growled softly and stepped around him to get in the van. One of the goons immediately jabbed him with a needle and Steve jerked forward, the man stopping him with another shove of the gun into Lila’s temple. “Stay where you are, Captain,” he warned. He stepped backward into the van, pulling his legs in as another goon reached out and slammed the doors shut, and then the tires were kicking up gravel as they sped out of the driveway, leaving the farmhouse behind. Lila was still crying, and Bucky tried to focus on her even though his head felt like it was floating.

“It’s gonna be okay, Lila,” he muttered, and then the floor of the van rushed up to meet him and he was enveloped in darkness. 


	3. Home

The first thing he became aware of was that the world seemed to be moving under him. Then his senses started coming back online, bringing to him the dank scent found in any of a thousand different abandoned warehouses and factories, the cold of a stone floor seeping up through his fur, and the sound of quiet crying nearby. Bucky groaned and turned his head toward the noise, the sound coming out of his throat as a growl, and the crying cut off with a gasp and shuffling noises.

“Uncle Bucky?” Lila whispered. Bucky huffed in her direction and struggled to get his body working again. Whatever they’d drugged him with was powerful stuff. Eventually he got his eyes open and dragged himself over, inch by inch, until he pressed against the bars separating the two cells and Lila was able to bury her hands in his fur. Her fingers felt cold, and he grumbled that they’d forced her to suffer with him. She was only wearing a thin nightgown, and it was winter, for crying out loud. They should have at least given her a blanket. The man had said they wouldn’t hurt her, but he was disinclined to believe it the longer she was in their custody. He had to find a way to get her out of there, get her to safety. Lila was whispering to him as she pet his fur, something about a cat, but she abruptly went silent and still. Footsteps were approaching - boots, and Bucky turned his head toward the sound to see a guard passing by on his rounds. The guard glanced at where he had been lying and then abruptly stopped, scanning the cell until he saw Bucky next to the bars.

“The wolf is awake,” he reported into his comm unit. “No, he still looks drugged. Minor activity. He’s over by the girl but he’s lying down, looks like he dragged himself there.” Bucky growled at him. “Displaying signs of aggression. … No.” The guard turned his attention to Lila and Bucky snarled. “Minor injury to her hand, looks like the cat scratched her. Shivering, looks fine otherwise. … Yes, sir.” The guard turned away from them and continued down the hallway. Bucky stared after him until the sound of his boots faded, then he turned back to Lila and sniffed her hands. The scratched one smelled of dried blood, but he couldn’t detect any infection.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. Bucky grumbled and licked her fingers. Five minutes passed before a pair of men approached the cells. One held two trays, the other a folded up blanket and a gun. They opened Lila’s door and set down one tray and the blanket just inside with Bucky growling at them the whole time. Lila cautiously crept closer and snagged the blanket after they closed the door again, retreating back to sit beside Bucky as she wrapped it around herself. The two men moved to Bucky’s door, the one with the gun, who he realized was the same one who’d grabbed Lila at the house, pointing it at him while the other set the tray down inside the door. Bucky snarled but didn’t move from his spot on the floor. They locked the door again, then stood and stared at him for a minute before leaving.

“…Can we eat it?” Lila asked. Bucky shakily dragged himself to his feet and stumbled over to his tray and sniffed it. All his tray held was some chunks of raw meat and a bowl of water, all of it no doubt laced with more drugs. The water smelled too much like iron. He stumbled back over to the bars, and Lila fetched her tray and brought it over for him to check. Hers held a paper cup of water, clean, and a plate featuring a simple turkey sandwich and apple slices, with the apple skin carefully removed. None of it smelled tainted, so he stuck his nose between the bars and nudged her hand. Lila sat down with the tray in her lap and started eating.

“This is a weird breakfast,” she mumbled around a bite of sandwich. Bucky snorted and started walking around his cell, trying to get his body to work through the drugs and cooperate with him faster. When he was sure he could walk mostly without stumbling, he dipped his chin in the bowl of water to get it wet, and then let it drip on the tray and floor around the bowl, making it look like he’d splashed it as he drank. Then he carefully picked up the bowl between his teeth, carried it to the back of the cell, and poured the water out in little bits here and there along the wall, hoping they wouldn’t notice. There didn’t seem to be security cameras, if the men had had to come check on them in person. The bowl was still half full when he set it back down on the tray. The guards passed by twice while Lila was eating, and they both only glanced at Bucky’s tray before moving on. Whenever he heard them coming he flopped down and pretended to be asleep or drugged into immobility. Lila finished all her food and looked over at his just as he was carefully spilling more water on the floor.

“Is the water bad?” she asked. Bucky looked at her and nodded. Lila picked up her empty cup and held her hand out through the bars. Bucky tilted his head and brought the bowl over. She filled her cup with water from the bowl, set the cup down, and then knocked her wrist into it so the water spilled all over. Bucky grinned and licked her cheek before moving the bowl back. She was turning out to be a clever child. The next time a guard passed, Lila called out and got his attention.

“Excuse me, mister?” He stopped and glanced at her. “I spilled my water. Can I have some more please?” The guard stared at her and then silently held his hand out for the cup. Lila only got close enough to drop the cup in his hand and retreated again. The guard walked away, returning five minutes later with the full cup, which he set down on the floor inside the cell. “Thank you. But, mister? I have to go to the bathroom.” The guard stared at her again and then just walked off. Lila pouted and held the cup through the bars for Bucky. He sniffed it and then gratefully lapped it up until the cup was empty. He could go a few days without water and still function, but it wouldn’t exactly be comfortable. Another guard came by a minute later, and Bucky dropped onto the ground. The guard stopped in front of Lila’s cell and opened the door.

“Come here, I’m gonna take you to the bathroom.” Lila glanced at Bucky nervously. “You want to go or not?” Bucky licked her hand, and Lila stood and went to the door. “It’s that way,” he said, pointing down the hall. Bucky pricked his ears, tracking Lila and the guard as long as he could, but they were soon out of his hearing range. He jumped up and poured the last of his water out along the back wall since the rest had had time to dry out, and then he studied the lock and latch on the door as well as he could from the inside. When footsteps approached, he flopped back down and watched as Lila came back, none the worse for wear, and the guard took her tray and then locked her back in the cell and left again.

“The bathroom was cold,” Lila informed him, wrapping the blanket around herself and leaning against the bars between the cells. Bucky tried shifting and found that whatever they’d dosed him with at the house was still in effect, keeping him locked in wolf form. He sighed, leaned against Lila, and promised himself to try again half an hour later, which he would determine by the frequency of the guards’ rounds. They seemed to go by every ten minutes. He was just going to close his eyes for a little while and rest until it was time to try again. He’d be able to hear the guards pass so he didn’t need to see them, he told himself. 

~~

Bucky stirred when another heartbeat approached. He forced his eyes open when he realized it was not accompanied by footsteps. There was a cat slinking its way up the hallway, darting in and out of the shadows, nearly blending into them. It ( _she_ ) paused when she was almost to the cells, looking at him and Lila. The cat chirped at him and came over to investigate, sniffing at him fearlessly but keeping her distance from Lila. She walked right up to his head, stared at him for a minute, then batted his nose and darted a safe distance away. She stopped there to check his reaction, but Bucky just sneezed and laid his head back down.

Emboldened, the cat came back to him, poking all along his right side, and then Bucky rolled away from the bars so she could inspect the left side. His metal leg immediately caught her attention. She came up, pawed at it, pushed it back and forth, and even tried biting it. Bucky growled softly, and she left off with her teeth. Instead, she rubbed against his shoulder and neck, and then rubbed her face against his, purring.

“I’m glad she likes you,” Lila said. “I think she’s afraid of people. She scratched me when I tried to pet her.” Bucky looked over at Lila, and the cat took the opportunity to wedge herself under his chin, purring all the while. A moment later, another guard approached on his rounds, and the cat bolted, darting wide around Lila and slipping into the next cell, where Bucky could hear her hissing at the guard as he passed.

“Stupid cat,” the guard muttered.

“There’s baby kitties over there,” Lila informed Bucky once the guard was gone. “Kittens! I think there’s two or three of them.” Bucky filed away the information and tried to shift again. It was like the familiar pathway he took to shift was blocked off by a wall, and pushing at it only left him exhausted. He dozed off despite his best efforts, and woke some time later with a small, warm fuzzball tucked between his neck and right shoulder. It smelled like cat. When he lifted his head to look at it, he saw the cat approaching with a kitten dangling from her mouth. She slowed and approached more cautiously but still kept coming, and then she tucked the kitten next to the first one at his shoulder. She stared at him for a minute, and then left the cell and brought a third kitten to him. The third one was white with black feet and a black nose and tail tip. The mother cat tucked him in next to his sisters and walked away again. Bucky sniffed the kittens and licked them. They were small and skinny. Bucky didn’t know much about kittens, but it seemed like they were too thin. He tucked his head over them to keep them warm and hidden for when guards passed by.

The cat returned with an old ratty blanket dragging behind her. She went into the corner of his cell and made the blanket into a nest, then retrieved her kittens from him and lovingly placed each one into the nest, curling up with them afterward. Bucky watched them, and Lila started singing out of boredom in her cell. Feigning uselessness the next time someone entered his cell wouldn’t work if he was expected to help guard the kittens. They had to know the sedative would wear off quickly anyway, that’s what the drugged meat and water was for. Bucky stood and went to the tray, sniffing it again, and then flipped the water bowl so it was upside down and covering the meat. He didn’t want the cat to be poisoned trying to eat or drink it.

The next time a guard came by, Bucky was sitting up in front of the nest, staring at the guard. The guard stared back and reported in that Bucky was up and moving. Bucky nodded to the tray, bringing the guard’s attention to it. He looked from the tray to Bucky and back again.

“If I grab that, are you gonna take my arm off?” Bucky did his best to look offended and, at the same time, too bored to move.

“It’s yucky, he doesn’t like it. Just take it away,” Lila said. “It smells bad too. Don’t you know meat is supposed to be cooked before you eat it? It can make you sick. Are you trying to make him sick?” Bucky resisted the urge to laugh at her enthusiasm. The guard opened the cell, holding his gun at Bucky the whole time, and took the tray almost in self-defense, just so he could escape from Lila berating him. Bucky let himself chuckle once he was out of sight. The next guard that came by was holding a greasy paper bag from what was probably the nearest fast food place. He tossed the bag carelessly to the floor by Lila and moved on without doing more than glancing at Lila. Bucky recognized him as the same man who’d refused to take Lila to the bathroom before.

“I don’t like him,” Lila muttered, reaching for the bag. She pulled out a water bottle (still sealed; good), some napkins, and a wrapped hamburger that looked fairly squished. The water bottle had probably been on top of it. Next came a smashed cardboard container and a paper sleeve holding fries, which she laid out on the napkins. She rummaged further into the bag and gave a scowl to rival Bucky’s on a bad day.

“There’s no sauce,” she reported, then shoved a few plain fries into her mouth and chewed defiantly. She was definitely Laura’s child. Lila inspected the burger and opened the container to find chicken nuggets.

“Do you want the hamburger?” she asked. “It’s too big for me.” All Bucky’d had since dinner the night before was some drugged hot chocolate and a bit of water; he’d take anything Lila handed to him as long as she wasn’t depriving herself. She unwrapped the burger and set it down on top of the wrapper on the floor in his cell, then she grumpily ate her plain chicken nuggets. Bucky demolished the burger in a handful of bites mostly without complaint (fast food pickles, _ugh_ ) and pushed the wrapper back to Lila. She balled it up and shoved it back in the bag, shortly followed by the packaging from the fries. She looked down at the remaining nuggets and sipped the water.

“Do you think cats like chicken nuggets?” she asked. Bucky shrugged. “Here kitty.” Lila held one in her hand and got the cat’s attention, then tossed it to her. The cat sniffed it and then ate it. The next nugget didn’t make it the full distance. To Bucky’s amazement, by the time Lila was holding the last of the five spare nuggets, the cat was stretching to take it directly from her hand. Lila got in a brief pat and then the cat retreated back to her nest, but the smile on her face was huge.

~~

Shortly after that, several people marched down the hallway, and Bucky knew they were coming for him. He started growling as soon as they appeared, pinning his ears back to his head. The cat joined in hissing at them, but they ignored her as they opened the cell.

“Leave him alone!” Lila shouted at them. They ignored her too, and one of them got a wire muzzle on him. Another one looped a rope around his neck and pulled it tight, making it difficult to breathe. Bucky kept growling and threw his weight around, but they overpowered him with sheer numbers, and they dragged him out of the cell and down the hall. He kept his ears pinned back, his feet sliding along the floor, and his heart started racing. Another presence in his mind nudged at him. Whether it was the Soldier or the Asset, he didn’t know. Bucky worried about ceding control to one of them, but he didn’t want to know where they were going or what was going to happen to him. Bucky closed his eyes and slipped away, letting someone else take over for a while.

When he took over again, he was being choked, dragged along at the end of the rope. It seemed they didn’t care if he lived, or else that had high expectations for his ability to survive. They were dragging him back to the cell, his whole body limp like he’d been unconscious. He felt exhausted down to his bones. They must have worked him hard. Lila was outraged when they put him back in his cell, but he could only make out the tone of her voice, no words. They removed the rope, the cat hissing all the while, and then the blackness at the edges of his vision enveloped him and he knew no more. 

~~

Bucky startled awake when the cell door opened with a screech of hinges. The guards, having lost the element of surprise thanks to the door, hurried in and snapped a metal collar around his neck as Bucky snarled and snapped at them. As soon as the collar was in place they retreated, holding onto thick chains that led from the collar on separate sides so he couldn’t lunge at either of them without choking himself.

“What are you doing? Leave him alone!” Lila demanded as they dragged him from the cell.

“He’ll be back in a few hours,” one of the guards said to her. Bucky struggled and fought, yanking back on the chains to see if either one would break or slip. But they held fast, and the guards dragged him to a larger room farther into the warehouse. There was a table fitted with restraints in the center of the room, and around it, more tables covered in surgical supplies and people standing around wearing white coats. Bucky whimpered and felt a stab of fear. He tried to dig his heels in but his feet just slid across the floor, and then they were at the table. One of the whitecoats used a tool with a long handle to fit a muzzle on him and Bucky’s ears pinned back flat to his head.

The guards loosened their hold on the chains and stepped closer to grab him and lift him onto the table. Bucky growled and twisted his body around, trying to squirm free of them, but more of the whitecoats came forward to help, and Bucky felt each of his limbs being grabbed and moved as he was pinned and then strapped down to the table. They were trading orders and demands for assistance over his head as he fought them, but there were enough of them that they quickly had him flat on the table. His eyes rolled in his head as he tried to look at all of them at once, his tail clamped tightly against his legs since they hadn’t strapped that down.

“Right. Bring that tray of instruments over here, let’s get him dosed before he decides to try escaping again,” one of the whitecoats said, waving a hand at the edge of his vision. Bucky let out a small whine, he couldn’t help it, and then an explosion rocked the building. Several of the people fell over, some fetching up against his table, and he could hear tools and instruments clattering to the floor. “What’s going on?!”

“It looks like Captain America has arrived, sir!” one of the other whitecoats said.

“Captain America? But he hasn’t been seen since last year!” Another explosion from a different direction sent more of them to the floor, while the guards gripped their weapons and looked around grimly.

“More of the Avengers are here!” Bucky started squirming on the table, struggling to get free and trying to get the wire off his muzzle so he could chew through the straps and maybe bite some people. He hoped the building wouldn’t start collapsing in the wrong areas, he didn’t exactly trust Hydra to make sure Lila was safe. She was a good hostage, but a hostage wouldn’t do much good if they were going to keep you from escaping.

“Alright! Sedate the Soldier and prepare transport! We need to get out of here!” the lead whitecoat ordered, reaching for the collar to hold his head steady. A hawk flew out of the shadows and clawed his face as it passed between them. The man screamed as Bucky smelled blood, could almost feel it dripping on him, and he started to panic, jerking in the restraints as another whitecoat stumbled up to the table with a ready syringe. The hawk smashed into the side of her head and the syringe fell on the floor. The hawk landed on Bucky’s head and yanked at the wire muzzle for a second before it ( _he_ , it had to be Sam) was forced to take off again or be grabbed by a guard. The guards started shooting at him, but Sam dodged expertly, and a few of the whitecoats fell under their fire before Sam flew between the two guards and managed to get them to shoot each other. He shifted back to human as he was wheeling around, slamming into the back of one guard and throwing him into the other one, grabbing both of their guns and opening fire on the whitecoats. Two had dropped to the floor and grabbed for the syringe of sedative, but Sam kicked one’s hand away and stomped on the other. Bucky heard the sound of bones and glass breaking under the man’s scream. Soon Bucky and Sam were the only ones alive and conscious, and Bucky looked at Sam desperately.

“Hold on a minute and I’ll get you out of there,” Sam promised, dropping the guns and reaching for him. He pulled the muzzle off carefully and threw it aside, followed by the collar, and then yanked at the restraints, snapping some of them right in half. Bucky stumbled as he jumped down from the table and Sam grabbed him to steady him. Bucky shook himself hard in an effort to get rid of the feeling of the collar around his neck. He leaned hard against Sam and used his warmth to ground himself as he closed his eyes and forced the shift.

“Lila,” he gasped. “We have to get Lila.”

“Where is she?” Sam asked, holding him up with one hand and grabbing a gun.

“Cell. Down that way.” Bucky pointed, and Sam helped him stumble along out of the room until he remembered how to walk on two legs. As soon as Bucky was sure he could walk without falling over, he shook off Sam’s helping hand and took off down the hallway at a sprint.

“Bucky, wait!” Sam called, and then swore and started running after him. Bucky didn’t stop, he couldn’t; there was no time, he had to get to Lila. When he reached the cells, one of his fears was confirmed: the cell was empty, the door hanging wide, and Lila was nowhere to be seen. Sam was huffing when he caught up to him, but Bucky was too busy trying to catch the scent of whoever had taken Lila to look at him. “Man, what—?”

“One of them took her,” Bucky said urgently. “A good hostage is only a good hostage if they don’t slow you down.” A third explosion shook the building and sent dust drifting down from the ceiling in the cells. “And a little girl doesn’t move fast.” Bucky shifted and was running again as soon as he caught the scent, following it down the hallway while Sam struggled to keep up. The warehouse wasn’t large as far as warehouses went so it didn’t take long for him to find the guard who had taken Lila. She was still bundled into the blanket, her arms wrapped around the guard’s neck as he supported her weight with his left arm and held a gun in his right hand. Bucky approached them carefully, snarling, and the guard brought his gun up, displaying one crucial difference: unlike the man who had first kidnapped Lila, the guard pointed the gun at Bucky instead of Lila. Bucky subsided to a growl, and they were locked in a stalemate amid the sound of distant gunfire until Sam jogged up behind Bucky. The guard’s gun wavered between Bucky and Sam.

“Put the girl and the gun down, and you’ll just be arrested instead of dead,” Sam told him. The guard swallowed and the gun shook.

“I was just trying to get her out of here. It’s not a good idea for a kid to be here in the first place, and this building could come down at any time,” the guard explained. “There’s no, there’s no self-destruct or anything, but there’s already been three explosions. The next one might level this place, I wanted to get her to safety. Nobody else cared enough to get her out.” He slowly lowered the gun and flicked the safety on before sticking it in its holster on his thigh. Bucky ignored the distant barking he could hear. The guard hoisted Lila up higher so he could hold onto her better. Bucky and Sam both eyed him suspiciously. “I’ll come along and cooperate, but we need to get out of here sooner rather than later.” Sam sighed and lowered his own gun.

“Alright. We’ll—” What he was about to say, Bucky never found out, because another explosion went off, shearing off an entire wall of the building. Shelves and stacks of crates started falling all around them, shattered glass flying, and the guard gripped Lila tightly and took off, Bucky on his heels and Sam close behind. Sam was the only one who saw the crate toppling down straight where they were heading. He shouted a warning, but it only gave them time to look up and see it coming down on their heads before it was on them. The impact sent Bucky flying into a shelf that was still standing, but he shook it off and joined Sam in digging at the destroyed crate. The guard’s boots were all that stuck out from underneath, and Sam muttered a prayer under his breath that both guard and girl had survived it.

“Uncle Bucky?” Lila’s voice came, muffled under the crate but very much alive. They both breathed a sigh of relief and worked faster, the entire warehouse in a slow state of collapse. When they got the two uncovered, they found the guard had stuffed Lila underneath himself, shielding her with his body. His hand was even under her head to keep it from smacking into the cement floor when they fell, and a shard of wood that was as big around as Lila’s wrist stuck out of his back . Bucky shifted and helped Sam carefully lift the guy and pull Lila out of the mess. Sam brushed his hands over her to make sure she was okay, and Bucky didn’t need to scramble for the guy’s pulse to see if he was still alive. He could hear his heart still beating, though sluggishly.

“Let’s get out of here already. You take her, I’ll take him; if you see Steve tell him to _stop blowing up the freaking buildings._ Go!” Sam grabbed Lila up and ran. Bucky tried to get the guy up on his shoulders without jostling him too much, hooked his right elbow around the guy’s knee and grabbed his wrist with his hand, leaving his left arm free to cover them or bash his way through things as he ran. Sam was long gone already, only slowed down by 60 pounds of child while Bucky was carrying 180 pounds of unconscious Hydra goon. Just when Bucky was thinking he and the guy would be buried under the collapsing roof before he could find the door, Clint appeared through the smoke and dust. Crazy Dog was with him.

“This way! Come on, hurry! Wanda’s doing her best to hold the roof but it’s still coming down!” Bucky changed direction and charged at him, Clint waiting for him to get close before turning and leading the way, making sure Bucky stayed within sight of him as he made sure the way remained clear. They had to make a detour as a crate crashed down in front of them, and then they were running outside and straight into a firefight. “Get down!” Clint ordered unnecessarily, swearing. Bucky grunted, a bullet impacting his hip, and dove for cover. Dog stuck close beside him, growling and sniffing at him and the Hydra goon. A few more spatters of gunfire and the twang of Clint’s bowstring, and it went quiet aside from the building’s slow collapse into a fire pit and the wail of approaching sirens.

“One of those had better be an ambulance,” Bucky said, laying out the goon and checking his pulse. It was still there, but worryingly slow. The wood hadn’t gone straight through, and as long as it stayed put he wouldn’t bleed out, but he might still drown in his own blood if his lungs were punctured. Making a split second decision, Bucky sliced his palm open with a knife from the man’s belt and dripped some of his own blood into the wound, shaking his hand to get rid of the last drops as the cut sealed. Hopefully that would keep him alive until they got him to a hospital. 

Worried Dog nosing at his thigh had him biting back a shout of pain, hissing between his teeth instead as he held Dog off. Bucky twisted around to look at his hip. The bullet had struck low and curved down, stopping at the top of his femur. Bucky took the knife and sliced through denim and skin, then extended his claws and carefully dug inside, pulling the bullet out. He nearly bit through his tongue trying not to make noise and draw attention to himself. The wound sealed up after a minute, and Dog put a paw on his wrist and licked the blood from his hand. Bucky lifted his head and looked around. The team was converging on them. Lila had been passed to Steve, and her head was buried in his blue kevlar-covered shoulder. Clint was clutching at his side.

“I’ve been hit,” he said, his knees giving out. Sam caught him and carefully lowered him to the ground and Bucky was at his side in a second, sniffing at the wound. He was never going to get the smell of blood out of his nose after this. Sam checked Clint’s responses while Bucky looked for an exit wound. Finding none, he estimated the bullet’s trajectory across Clint’s torso, guessed that it had most likely hit a rib and veered beyond his ability to extract it, up into the area of his lungs and heart, and looked up to find his worry reflected on Sam’s face.

“I’m gonna go flag down that ambulance,” Steve said, quickly walking away with Lila. Bucky yanked off his shirt and tank top, pulled the shirt back on, and wadded up the tank top to press against Clint’s side, trying to slow the bleeding.

“Clint. Clint, stay awake.” Sam patted his cheek to try and keep him focused. Clint blinked up at him.

“Tell…tell my brother I’m sorry?” he asked. Bucky held up the knife he was still holding and the dried blood on his hand to show Sam his idea.

“No no, Clint, listen. We can save you, we can Change you if you want us to, but Clint, you have to tell us,” Sam said quickly. Clint wasn’t showing signs that he’d heard.

“…tell the kids I love ‘em,” Clint mumbled, closing his eyes. Bucky growled and sliced open his palm.

“Tell them yourself.” He tossed the knife to Sam, who fumbled and dropped it. “He can’t decide, we leave it to fate.”

“I’m fine being just a bird, thanks.” Sam left the bloody knife in the dirt, pulled his own clean knife, and sliced his skin.

“Same time, yeah? One, two, three.” Bucky pressed his hand to the hole in Clint’s side as Sam pressed his palm to a cut on Clint’s cheek. They held position for a minute, listening to Wanda step carefully around the bodies of Hydra and check for pulses, and when they pulled their hands away, the cuts on their hands and Clint’s face had healed.

“Oh good, it took,” Sam sighed. Sudden movement had them looking up. Two more gunmen had appeared from behind a stack of boxes and were taking aim. Angry Dog lunged at them, barking his head off, and the guns swiveled to point at him. With a bang and a yelp, Dog tackled one of the men, snarling. Bucky snatched the borrowed knife from the ground in front of Sam, throwing it and lodging it in the second man’s neck. He grasped at it, choking, and then collapsed. Sam swore and ran to the now motionless pile of man and Dog. Bucky watched on anxiously, barely holding the shift back, stuck holding the cloth to Clint’s side until help came. Wanda came out of nowhere and ran to help Sam, the two of them carefully moving Dog away from the men.

“He’s still alive, but we need to get him to a vet like right now.” He looked back over his shoulder to see if the ambulance was coming and swore again. “I’m gonna go see what’s taking so long, you’ll stay here?”

“Yeah. You go check in with Steve,” Bucky said. Wanda nodded, and Sam sprinted away. A few minutes later, the Barton truck roared up and Sam hopped out of the driver’s seat.

“I found the nearest vet’s office, I’m gonna get him there as soon as I can.” Bucky whimpered as Sam and Wanda loaded Dog into the truck, straining towards him. Wanda came to switch places as soon as he was settled and Bucky hurried over, moaning as he cupped Dog’s head in his hands. Half his poor golden face was covered in blood, and it was matted around his muzzle. The damage seemed to be concentrated on his left eye.

“Oh, you poor stupid Brave Dog,” Bucky muttered, kissing his face. Dog whined and licked his chin.

“Barnes, I gotta go,” Sam said. Bucky kissed Dog again and reluctantly let go, keeping eye contact until the door swung shut between them, Sam already clambering back into the driver’s seat. “I’ll take care of him, he’ll be fine.” Bucky knew that was a promise Sam couldn’t necessarily keep, but he appreciated it for what it was: an attempt to make him feel better. Bucky nodded and stepped back, and the truck roared away. Bucky turned back towards Clint and Wanda, dragging his hand across his eyes and barely noticing the blood he smeared on his skin. He walked back over and dropped to his knees next to Clint, reaching for the cloth.

“I can stay with him. You should go check on Lila, see if she’s okay.” Wanda studied his face.

“Are you sure?” she asked. Bucky nodded.

“I don’t want her to see me like this.”

“Alright.” Wanda hesitated before releasing Clint and standing up. Bucky watched her walk away and let out a shaky breath as the adrenaline of the past day began to seep out of him. He dragged a hand through his hair and then grimaced at the drying blood on it. He replaced the shirt compress on Clint’s side and sat there holding it, staring at the mess of the warehouse. Steve came jogging up a minute later in his uniform.

“Bucky, you okay?” he asked, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around Bucky without waiting for a response. Bucky whined and wrapped his free arm around Steve’s back, holding him tight. “I was so worried about you.” Steve pulled back and cupped Bucky’s face in his hands.

“I’m fine, Steve. Not a scratch on me.”

“Good. Good, okay.” Without warning, Steve leaned in and mashed their mouths together. Bucky jerked in surprise. Steve started to pull back, but Bucky put his hand on the back of Steve’s head and brought him back in, tilting his head to turn the slide of lips into a kiss. Steve moaned into his mouth and gripped at his shoulders.

“Yeah, get it, Cap,” Clint said roughly.

“Clint!” Steve yelped.

“Always nice to see two guys making out over me when I’m the one injured. What, I don’t rate a kiss?” Clint asked, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“You shut up and rest or I will kiss you,” Bucky threatened. Clint just made a kissy face at him. Bucky shifted, dragged his tongue up Clint’s face, and shifted back while he gagged.

“Ugh, dog slobber in my mouth, gross. Bucky, why,” he complained.

“That’s what you get for not following orders,” Steve told him seriously, but the blush on his face counteracted his attitude.

“Eh, it was worth it. We’ve been waiting for you two to get together _forever_ ,” he exaggerated. “So when’s the first date?”

“You just interrupted the first _kiss_ , pal,” Bucky said. “I’d smack you if you weren’t injured.”

“Aw, but you love me.”

“I’ll love you all the way to the hospital. Where’s that ambulance?” Bucky turned to look for it and realized Steve had grabbed his hand and was stroking his thumb over the knuckles. Steve gave him a shy smile. Bucky hesitated, then leaned in and pecked his cheek. “Stay with this knucklehead? I need to go check if the goon over behind the crate is still alive.” Steve frowned.

“Do you need backup?”

“Pretty sure about half the bones in his body are broken. I’ll be okay, thanks. Just hold this here.” He waited until Steve grabbed the compress and then stood up and went to check on the guy. He was still breathing, still bleeding, and still unconscious. He might need to get the priority ambulance, and Bucky would make sure to have them check for brain damage. He wasn’t sure how much his blood donation would help with. He took a few minutes to break down and then pull himself back together, careful not to give off any visible signs of his distress. The cool presence of the Soldier hovered at the edges of his mind, offering relief, but Bucky pushed him away and down. When the ambulance drove up and stopped next to Clint, Wanda hopped out of the cab.

“Where’s Lila?” Bucky asked.

“Getting checked out in the other ambulance,” Wanda said, pointing back the way they’d come.

“Tell them to get over here. We need the Hydra guy taken in, he’s still unconscious.” One of the paramedics overheard him and came to check on the guy while the other one proceeded to ask Clint a series of questions. The other ambulance pulled up, followed by a firetruck and several police cars, and there was a sudden flurry of activity. Before he knew what was happening, the Hydra guy was being loaded into an ambulance and the paramedic was asking if Bucky wanted to ride along. Bucky looked around for Steve and grabbed him, pressing another kiss to his mouth.

“I’m going in this ambulance. Follow me in the other one with Clint and Lila, and I’ll meet you there.” Steve nodded and kissed him back, then Bucky jumped up into the ambulance, the doors closed, and they took off. 

~~

Steve found Bucky in the hospital’s cafeteria, where he was slumped in a chair at a small table pressed against the wall. Bucky didn’t even need to open his eyes to know who had flopped into the chair across from him with a massive sigh. He could almost hear Steve rubbing his face as he groaned.

“Go get yourself something to eat, Rogers. You’ll feel better,” Bucky told him, taking a sip from his cup of what was, frankly, a terrible excuse for coffee. Steve sighed again and obediently went to stand in line. If Bucky focused, he could hear Steve talking to the cafeteria employees as he ordered food and a drink. Bucky finally opened his eyes when Steve sat back down and pushed a plate over to him.

“When was the last time you ate?” Steve asked as explanation. He’d changed out of his Cap suit at some point, though Bucky didn’t know where the khakis and polo shirt had come from. A quick peek under the table told him Steve hadn’t switched out his boots. 

“Probably before I was taken,” Bucky said casually. Steve went tense, and Bucky glanced up at him. “I’m kidding; I had a cheeseburger at the warehouse. Lila didn’t want it. Did you know chicken nuggets are her favorite?” Steve sighed for the third time in ten minutes.

“Don’t scare me like that, Buck.” Bucky just shrugged and stole a fry from Steve’s plate. He gave a smirk in the face of Steve’s glare, and Steve melted and gave him a tired smile. “So how’s Lucky?” he asked, pouring some ketchup for his fries. Bucky went tense for a few seconds. Steve frowned. “Do you not know?” Bucky sighed and shook his head, letting the tension seep back out.

“I took Hydra guy’s phone and called Sam. Dog got shot in the face. Last I heard, he might lose his eye, but he’ll survive. That was during surgery. Sam hasn’t updated me since then. But reception here is bad; he might’ve tried calling again and it didn’t come through.”

“I’m sorry, Buck. I’m sure he’ll be okay.” Bucky nodded and poked a stolen fry at the bag of chips that came with his sandwich. “And your Hydra guy?” Bucky shook off the melancholy. 

“Doc said he’ll live. Surgery took a while because they had to fish all the splinters out of him before they could sew him back up. They’re monitoring him for brain damage, said they’ll let me know when he wakes up.” Bucky took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “Turned out the guy broke his hand saving Lila’s head from meeting the concrete. His own head wasn’t so lucky. He’s got about a dozen broken ribs, the left collarbone’s broken, and he did some damage to his knees and hips. They were surprised he survived long enough to get here, probably the blood donation that did it.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Steve asked seriously. Bucky dragged a fry through the ketchup.

“I guess we’ll see when he wakes up. He was the one who arranged for most of Lila’s meals, took her to the bathroom when she needed it, brought her that blanket. Gotta wonder why a guy like that ended up working for Hydra in the first place.” Steve nodded and they ate in silence for a few minutes. “I was thinking about handing him over to the Widow for interrogation. She’d know the best way to get all the answers from him.” Steve’s eyebrows went up.

“Actually, I’ve already called her, she’s on her way here now. That’s part of why it took me so long to come find you, I called Natasha and Tony to see if they could organize cleanup at the warehouse while we took care of things here. I guess Clint called her yesterday as soon as he woke up, she was already on her way when I called her. She helped Clint track you two down, I guess Lila’s got some sort of tracker on her.” Bucky made a face and Steve shrugged expansively. “Yeah, I know, but it’s for situations like this. There’s always a chance the kids could get taken and used for leverage.”

“How is Lila anyway?”

“She’s fine. No malnutrition, no dehydration, no frostbite.” Bucky nodded; he knew that already. “Couple of scrapes on her legs and face where she wasn’t covered by the blanket, and she inhaled a bit of smoke from the warehouse fire so she’s got a cough, but the doctor said that will go away on its own. She’s with Laura now.”

“And Clint?” Bucky took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. It had gone cold and was now extra disgusting.

“The bullet fragmented when it hit his rib, and a piece sliced into an artery and stayed there. It shifted during transport, but the damage to the artery is far less than what they expected. They got all the fragments out and sewed him up. He’s got some internal bleeding making some spectacular bruises, but they expect him to make a full recovery. They kept going on about his amazing recovery speed and kept looking at me, like maybe I gave him a dose of the serum I was hiding up my sleeve.” Steve rolled his eyes and Bucky snorted.

“Looks like those blood donations do some good after all.” Bucky took a sip of Steve’s drink and then handed it back to him. “Sam and I both gave him some, we left it up to chance which way he’ll go. I might even have a proper furry pack at this point.”

“Are you adopting another dog?” a voice asked. Bucky carefully kept from flinching (why hadn’t he heard her coming? Everything smelled like a hospital so his nose was useless, but to not hear someone approach?), but Steve jumped so dramatically he would have thrown his drink across the cafeteria if Bucky hadn’t been in the process of stealing it again and coincidentally bracing his hand. Natasha pulled up a chair and propped her elbows on the table, snagging a couple of fries.

“Hey, those are Steve’s,” Bucky protested. She raised her eyebrows at him and popped them in her mouth.

“Would you like me to get you some fries, Natasha?” Steve asked.

“No thanks, I’m good. So tell me how you’ve been.”

“What do you mean?”

“Clint told me he saw you two kissing.” Steve went three shades of red while Bucky attempted to hide behind Steve’s drink.

“It wasn’t—we just—nothing _happened_ , okay? We’ve only kissed the one—no, wait, was it three? Two or three?” He frowned and looked at Bucky, who held up three fingers. “Three times. We haven’t even had a chance to talk about it, Natasha, and I’d prefer not to talk about it in a hospital cafeteria. Any of these people might recognize me here. I don’t want tomorrow’s headlines to be ‘Captain America Comes Out!’ okay?” Natasha raised her hands in surrender and sat back.

“Alright, but there does need to be a talk later,” she said.

“Sure, fine, later.”

“Okay.” She studied the two of them, and Bucky carefully kept from meeting her eyes. “So I talked to the doctors. Apparently, Clint is healing at an astonishing rate.”

“That’s the same look they gave me! I didn’t have a vial of serum up my sleeve to give him, stop looking at me like that!” It was like watching a small explosion. Bucky dipped a fry in ketchup and shoved it in Steve’s open mouth, shoving the drink into his hand at the same time.

“Eat your food, Rogers. You’ll feel better.” Steve glared at him, but Bucky just stared him down. Steve grumbled and turned back to decimating his hamburger. Bucky nodded in satisfaction and removed the pickles from his sandwich, dropping them onto Steve’s plate. Steve paused and stuffed the pickles into his burger. Natasha raised her eyebrows.

“What? If Bucky doesn’t want them, I’m not gonna let them go to waste.” Bucky prodded his cold cup of coffee across the table with one finger. Steve took a sip of it and grimaced. “Okay no, that’s garbage.” Natasha rolled her eyes and took the cup, going to toss it in the trash on her way to get a soda from the vending machine. Just after she came back, a nurse stepped into the cafeteria and approached their table.

“Mr. Barnes?” Bucky quickly wiped his mouth on a napkin and looked up. “Mr. Stemple is awake if you would like to see him now.”

“Stemple?” Steve muttered. Bucky nodded and stood.

“Yeah, I’ll come see him.” He pushed his unopened bag of chips at Steve, then paused and wrapped a hand around the back of his head, dragging him closer to kiss his forehead. “Behave, Rogers.” Steve turned pink and Natasha smirked as Bucky turned and followed the nurse. He could hear them muttering at each other until he was far enough down the hallway that the other sounds in the hospital covered their voices.

“Mr. Stemple is doing well,” the nurse told him as they stepped into the elevator. “There are no signs of brain injury so far, aside from a slight concussion. But he was able to correctly give us his name, the date, and to answer most of the other questions we asked him. He does have a headache and a sensitivity to sound, so we’ve asked the man sharing his room to try and keep the noise down.”

“He isn’t in his own room?” Bucky asked.

“Unfortunately, no. The hospital is rather full at the moment so he is forced to share.” The nurse led Bucky down a hallway and into a room. Clint was in the bed closest to the door, watching the tv on silent with subtitles on. He glanced over when they came in and lifted his hand in greeting.

“Hey Clint,” Bucky said, waving back to him. Clint made a sign next to his ears that Bucky had come to learn meant Clint had taken out his hearing aids. Bucky nodded and gave him a thumbs up, which Clint returned before he turned back to the tv. The nurse appeared startled.

“You know Mr. Barton as well?” she asked.

“Yeah. Clint’s…” Oh, what the heck; Clint couldn’t hear him anyway. “He’s my friend. I’ve been staying with him for a while.” The nurse nodded and led him past Clint to the other bed, Bucky pausing to pinch Clint’s toes beneath the blanket. Clint kicked at him and flipped him off.

“Mr. Stemple? Mr. Barnes is here to see you,” the nurse said after making sure he was still awake. Bucky didn’t need the heart monitor to tell him the guy’s pulse sped up at the sight of him. Bucky stepped forward and patted his hand reassuringly.

“It’s good to see you awake,” he said.

“I’ll leave you two to talk. Just press the button if you need anything,” the nurse said, and then she left the room and tugged the door closed. Bucky caught the motion of Clint putting in one of his hearing aids from the corner of his eye as he pulled up a chair and sat down.

“So I think we owe you,” Bucky said honestly. “You saved Lila’s life by risking your own.”

“She’s okay?” the guy asked.

“She’s fine. Got a couple scratches, but that’s it.” The guy sighed in relief and winced. “You, on the other hand, have about twenty broken bones from that crate coming down on top of you. We weren’t sure you’d survive long enough to get to the hospital. Either of you, in fact.” He looked over at Clint to include him and saw Clint watching him. “So you each got a blood donation.” He held up his hand. “You weren’t able to consent to it, but I figured you’d rather be alive and maybe a werewolf than dead.” The guy let out a shaky breath. “What’s your name, anyway? I can’t keep calling you ‘Hydra guy’, and your last name is weird.”

“Says the guy with a weird name,” Clint chimed in.

“Pot, kettle, _Clinton_.”

“That’s a low blow, bro.”

“Uh, my name’s Jeffery.”

“Jeffery? You don’t look like a Jeffery. What’s your middle name?” Bucky asked.

“Uh, Robert?”

“Nice to meet you, Bob. I’m Bucky. I’d shake your hand but,” he gestured to the cast on Jeffery’s right hand. “That’s Clint in the other bed.” Clint waved to him. Jeffery lifted his hand as if to wave back and instantly put it back down, wincing.

“Yeah, I’d stick to not moving if I was as broken as you are, man,” Clint said. Jeffery tilted his head back on the pillow.

“So I’m going to be a werewolf?” he asked, staring at the ceiling.

“Well, maybe. I’ve never done this before, so I’m not sure how it works. You’re not healing as fast as Clint, but he got a double dose.” Bucky turned to look at Clint. “Sam also contributed, so it could go either way, but you’re definitely something, now.”

“As long as I don’t turn into a parrot or a poodle, I’m good,” Clint said.

“We’ll just have to wait and see once you both are out of the hospital. But we still need to question you on your involvement with Hydra.”

“Of course.” Jeffery closed his eyes. Bucky reached out and patted his leg.

“I’ll let you get some rest. I’m sure you need it.” Jeffery just nodded and settled into the bed. Bucky stood and moved the chair back, then went over to Clint. He eyed the bed for a moment, then carefully climbed on and rested his head on Clint’s chest to listen to his heart without the monitor. He kept most of his weight off him. Clint combed his fingers through Bucky’s hair, and Bucky sighed. Bucky got back up after a couple minutes and brushed his hair back.

“I’ll send Natasha in to see you both,” Bucky told him. Clint nodded.

“Go get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you soon, Barnes.” Bucky cast one last glance over the two men and the room before slipping out the door and closing it behind himself. 

~~

Clint was released the next morning, signing himself out even though they advised against it. Laura came to pick him up, and Bucky and Steve ended up going with them. They’d spent all night at the hospital with less than optimal sleep and too much sterile hospital smell, and under that, blood and the sound of distant crying. Bucky had gotten back to that itchy skin feeling. Sam had come with Laura, and Natasha had spent the night at a nearby hotel, so they had opted to stay with Jeffery since they were not as recognizable as Steve and Bucky. As soon as they were out of the city proper, Bucky shifted and stretched out in the backseat, putting his head in Steve’s lap. Steve’s hands went up in surprise. Bucky pawed at his arm until he set one hand on Bucky’s head, and then he leaned into it. Steve finally got with the program and started scratching around his ears. Bucky let out a yawn and closed his eyes, pressing his nose to Steve’s thigh to cover the lingering hospital smell with his.

Bucky woke up when the truck switched off, opening his eyes to find that Steve was asleep with his head tilted against the window. (What was with him and awkward neck sleeping angles?) Clint twisted to look at them, and Bucky pawed at the door with his metal limb.

“Yeah, I’ll come get you out.” Clint hopped out of the truck and opened the back door. Steve started falling into the open space and jerked awake with a snort as Clint caught him by the shoulder. Steve peered around blearily and rubbed his face.

“We’re there already?”

“Yeah, Cap. Come on, come inside and you can sleep in a real bed.” Steve yawned and stretched. Bucky stepped over him and leaped neatly to the ground, making sure Steve got a faceful of tail on his way past just because. Steve spluttered and glared at him. Bucky just gave him a lolling grin and trotted towards the house. He heard Steve clamber out of the truck behind him. Bucky was tackled by kids as soon as he hit the porch.

“Uncle Bucky!” Lila cried from her place buried in the fur at his shoulder, her arms in a chokehold around his neck. Cooper was half draped over his back and hugging him around the middle, and even Nathaniel had toddled up to grab onto his leg.

“Alright kids, how about we let everyone go inside?” Clint said, coming around him and plucking up Nathaniel. Cooper and Lila reluctantly let go and they all trooped into the house. Steve had gotten past him, and Bucky purposely rubbed against his leg as he walked in. Wanda was waiting, and Bucky graciously accepted pets from her before shifting to two legs and giving her a quick hug. Lila attached herself to his leg and looked up at him. Bucky hoisted her onto his hip and brought Cooper in, hugging both of them.

“I missed you too, kids. You’ll have to tell me about how you saved Nate later, okay?” he said to Cooper, who nodded. Steve stifled a yawn behind him, but Bucky heard it anyway. He set Lila down and let Cooper go. “But for now, Uncle Steve and I need to go take a nap. Go bother Uncle Clint.” Bucky grabbed Steve’s arm and towed him up the stairs before anyone could stop them. Steve put in a token protest at his speed as he tripped over the first step, but Bucky kept going until they were in Steve’s room with the door locked behind them. He turned around and they stared at each other for a minute, neither one wanting to make the first move. Bucky sighed and flopped onto the bed, squirming around until he could untuck the covers, kicking off his boots at the same time.

“Come on, Rogers. Bedtime.” Steve lined up his and Bucky’s shoes neatly by the wall and skimmed off his pants.

“You can’t sleep like that, Buck.” Steve tugged on the hem of his jeans. “Take these off.”

“You sure you want me to? I’m Buck naked under them,” he said, peeking out of the pillow to see the myriad expressions crossing Steve’s face. His face eventually settled on going red as he fetched a pair of sweatpants and threw them at him. Bucky squirmed around to change from the jeans to the sweats and threw them on the floor. Steve stooped to pick them up. “Steve, come on. Leave them. Come to bed.” Steve went pink but gave in and climbed into bed next to him, keeping a careful distance. Bucky immediately crossed the invisible dividing line and flopped on top of him, wedging one leg between his thighs. Steve’s hands fluttered over his shoulders.

“I don’t remember you being this scared of sharing a bed,” Bucky said, peering up at him.

“I’m not—scared, I just. Don’t know what the limits are.” Steve huffed and avoided his eyes.

“For now, this is good. We keep our clothes on and go to _sleep_ , Steve.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” He slung his arms loosely around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky hummed in satisfaction, then reached back and guided one of Steve’s hands up to his hair. “You need a shower later,” Steve told him, stroking his fingers through it.

“Shh, sleep.” Bucky nuzzled into his chest.

“…Goodnight, Bucky.”

“G’night, Steve.”

~~

The next day Bucky rode with Steve in the truck back to the hospital in the city. Jeffery was being released, and he had passed Natasha’s muster. Sam rode in the front with Steve on their way back, and Bucky sat in the back with Jeffery. He was still moving gingerly and remembered not to take deep breaths. They stopped by the vet’s office to pick up Dog. He’d been cleaned and patched up. The vet talked all of them through his care and handed his medicines to Sam while Steve paid and Bucky buried his face in golden fur. Dog’s face was shaved and bandaged, with more bandages around his rib cage. According to the doctor, he had a couple broken ribs in addition to losing his left eye, but Good Dog was a survivor.

“You really are a Lucky Dog, aren’t you?” Bucky murmured, gently petting his ears. Lucky wagged his tail once and then sighed as if even that effort had exhausted him. Bucky carefully picked him up and carried him out to the truck, Lucky’s chin resting on his shoulder. He got settled with Lucky’s head in his lap, his tail flopped over Jeffery’s leg. Natasha followed them out of the city in her rental car.

“Good thing we’ve got all those guest rooms now,” Steve muttered to Sam.

“Oh, like you and Barnes aren’t gonna share?” Sam muttered back. Bucky had the satisfaction of seeing Steve’s ears turn red, sitting behind him as he was. When they pulled up to the house, Clint was waiting for them on the porch. He stepped off the porch as they got out of the truck. Bucky carefully pulled Lucky out of the truck and passed Clint, setting Lucky gently on the porch so he could watch what was coming. 

“Hey, Bob. Feeling okay today?” Clint asked.

“My name is Jeffery. Or Jeff,” Jeffery said, exasperated.

“Sure thing, Bobby.” Jeffery rolled his eyes and huffed. Natasha pulled up and parked beside them. She got out and passed by the four of them to give Clint a hug and then put her bag on the porch.

“So have you figured out what you are yet?” she asked.

“The experts have been kind of busy,” Clint said, gesturing to Sam and Bucky.

“You told her?” Sam asked.

“Of course I told her. She’s still my best friend.” Bucky was not disappointed by that, he wasn’t.

“The only way to know what you are is to shift,” Bucky said, brushing all the rest of it aside.

“And…how exactly am I supposed to do that?” Clint asked.

“I don’t know. I just do it.”

“Well that sounds super helpful.” Clint looked at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

“You just have to feel it,” Sam told him. “Imagine yourself flying. Feel the air beneath your wings, the wind in your feathers. Picture yourself floating in the sky.” Sam continued to give him tips while Clint closed his eyes and concentrated. After five minutes or so, his figure blurred and shrank until a red-tailed hawk was sitting in his place.

“Well done,” Steve said.

“At least you’re not a parrot, man,” Sam added. Clint opened his eyes and looked down at himself, then squawked and tried jumping up, only to fall over in a flurry of feathers. Bucky snorted as Natasha helped Clint right himself.

“I guess that’s it,” Steve said.

“Not necessarily.” Bucky stepped forward and gestured Jeffery closer. “You should try it too. Remember what Sam said, but adapt it for a wolf. Four legs, a tail, fur. You get the picture.” Bucky glanced at Natasha before shifting, trusting Steve to have his back where she was concerned. He sat and stared at the two men, and then, one after the other, they managed to shift. Bucky trotted closer to look them over and catch their scents. Jeffery had turned into a wolf, smaller than Bucky but that was to be expected since Bucky was large even for a wolf. He was a Gray Wolf, the same kind, but he was black in color to Bucky’s brown. Jeffery sneezed and sniffed at him. Bucky circled him to look him over and then turned to Clint.

“Oh no, he turned into a Chihuahua,” Sam said. Clint yelped and looked down, spinning in a circle to try to see himself. Bucky wrapped his paws around him to get him to stop and bore him to the ground. Clint whined and Bucky licked at his sandy blond ears. He was smaller than Jeffery but still a wolf; Sam was just teasing him. The click of a false camera shutter had his ears twitching as Natasha took a picture of them. Jeffery paced around for a minute and then shifted back, flopping down on the porch steps and panting as if he’d run a mile.

“That was the weirdest thing I’ve ever done,” he said.

“You’ll get used to it,” Sam told him. Clint squirmed around and shifted back into a human shape, and Bucky grumbled but did the same, rolling off of him.

“You’re not a Chihuahua,” Bucky said, cutting him off as he opened his mouth. Clint paused.

“I’m not?”

“She’s got proof.” Bucky waved his hand at Natasha, who held out her phone with the picture on it.

“…I can’t see much aside from Bucky,” Clint said.

“Are you calling me fat?” Bucky asked, letting Steve help him up as an excuse to lean against him.

“You’re a very fluffy wolf, Clint,” Natasha reassured him, taking her phone back and tapping away at it.

“What are you doing?”

“Sending the picture to Tony.” Natasha grinned at them and then sailed on into the house with her bag. Cries of “Aunt Natasha!” reached Bucky’s ears.

“Aw man, I’m never gonna hear the end of it now,” Clint said, getting up off the ground and brushing the dirt off himself. Sam clapped him on the shoulder.

“Well, hey. You can turn into both a hawk and a wolf. That’s pretty cool.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Fur piles are great,” Bucky told him, still leaning against Steve. Somehow Steve’s arm had managed to sneak around his waist, his hand resting on Bucky’s hip. It was warm, and he smelled good. Bucky kind of wanted to roll in it. “Just wait until someone pets you, it’s the best thing. Lucky can show you how to Dog, he’s a pretty good teacher.” Lucky wagged his tail on the porch and Clint frowned.

“What about you? Why can’t you teach me?”

“Actually…Steve and I have something to do.” Bucky pulled Steve back towards the truck. “Don’t wait up.”

~~

Bucky paced quietly through the yard, Steve following at a distance. The collapsed warehouse was still in heaps, but it had stopped smoking. A handful of people were combing through the wreckage; whether they were local police or higher up the government chain, he didn’t know or care. He was tracking the cat’s scent. He knew she was smart enough to get her kittens out of the warehouse, and fast, as soon as things started blowing up. Her scent trailed all over the yard, but he eventually found a fresh sign and followed it, finding her holed up in a small utility shed near the fence. Bucky gestured for Steve to wait and approached the shed by himself. The cat was wary, but she calmed down when she saw him, hopping off a shelf to come rub herself against his legs. He nuzzled her and pulled a blanket off his back for her to smell. It was coated in Steve’s scent and had food smells mixed in. After she sniffed it, he trotted over to Steve, received a pat on the head, and went back to her. He wanted to convince her that Steve was friendly.

Steve came a bit closer and sat down a short distance away. He had several chunks of cooked chicken, and he tossed one to her. In the same way Bucky had observed her and Lila, the cat slowly crept closer to Steve, eventually getting brave enough to eat the chicken straight from his hand without running away between pieces. He put one in the basket he’d brought, and she jumped straight in and investigated. Bucky added the blanket to the basket and watched the cat move it around. While she was occupied, he went and got one of her kittens out of the nest hidden in the corner of the shed. He set the kitten inside the basket with her, and she eyed him for a minute, then arranged the blanket into a nest and tucked the kitten inside. The other two kittens quickly joined her, Steve carefully closed the lid on the basket, and soon they were on the way to the vet.

Bucky let Steve handle the conversation at the vet’s office. It reminded him too much of the hospital for him to feel settled enough to act like a normal human. He kept his metal hand in the basket, letting the cat get used to the new shape, before they were taken in the back. The cat and each kitten were given check-ups and shots, then pronounced healthy and slightly malnourished, and released to them with advice and directions to the nearest pet supply store.

They went inside together, debating the merits of various cat beds and litter boxes. Bucky wavered over the collars, having an intense visceral reaction to them himself, but the vet had advocated for them. Steve noticed his hesitation and made sure Bucky saw him coming before hugging him from behind. Bucky rested his hands on top of Steve’s, and Steve brushed a kiss against his neck.

“We don’t need to get collars for them if you don’t want. They’ll be farm cats, no animal control around for miles to worry about. And they look different enough, we don’t need something like that to keep from mixing them up. Let’s go look at some more blankets.” Bucky turned in his arms, cupped his face in both hands, and planted a kiss on him.

“I love you, Rogers,” he said before walking towards the next aisle, leaving Steve standing frozen behind him. They ended up leaving the store with arms full of cat supplies. They loaded them into the back of the truck carefully.

“Hey,” Bucky said as Steve was twisting around for his seatbelt. Steve turned back to him as Bucky was grabbing the front of his shirt, and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Steve moaned and melted into him. “Let’s go home, Steve,” he murmured.

“Yeah…home. That sounds nice.” Steve shook himself out of his daze and started the truck, and Bucky settled into his seat, feeling _happy_ for the first time in a long time.

When they got back to the farm, Bucky set up food and water bowls in the barn along with the new cat bed, then he opened the basket and left them to get used to their new environment. They had gotten back just in time for dinner. Lucky was lying on the floor in the kitchen, and he thumped his tail in greeting. Bucky got down on the floor with him, nuzzled his neck, and pressed a kiss above his remaining eye. Then he got up and joined the Bartons, team, Natasha, and Jeffery in squeezing around the table. It was a crowded, noisy, and friendly affair, and Bucky found himself smiling just as often as he caught Steve staring at him with a dopey look.

After dinner, the dishes were cleared away, and Natasha and Laura brought out dessert and drinks. Clint raised his glass and waited until he had everyone’s quiet attention.

“To getting out of the hospital,” he said. A round of laughter swept the table and Laura elbowed him.

“To recovery,” Wanda said, raising her own glass and meeting each person’s eyes. There was a murmured agreement and they all sipped their drinks. Bucky thought about it for a moment and then raised his glass.

“To family.”

“To family,” they echoed. Steve reached over and squeezed his hand. Bucky leaned in and gave him a quick kiss.

“Aw, I love all you guys!” Clint stood and started rounding the table, giving kisses to everyone to various levels of protest. He ended up chasing Scott around the table and then out of the room as everyone laughed. Nathaniel started throwing cake around and Lucky started eating the pieces that fell near him until Laura got up to clean it up. Steve was laughing, his face pink and his shoulder pressed to Bucky’s, and Bucky smiled around at everyone.

They were messy, and loud, and there were far too many of them crammed into the space. They weren’t perfect. Not by far. But they didn’t have to be perfect.

They were Home, and Home was good enough for him. 


End file.
